


All-Encompassing

by spiffycups



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: Canon-compliant with imagines in between, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:44:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffycups/pseuds/spiffycups
Summary: This is a Navaratri series, and will be updated daily. Chapter 1 is day 0, I'm posting this to get warmed up to the challenge of writing her. Chapter 2 onwards is the real day-themed content.





	1. Chapter 1

When her mother was still the wisest woman she knew, Devasena learnt many lessons at her knee, wide-eyed and attentive. “You are compassionate and intelligent, my love, but remember- let nothing, nothing stand in the way of your duty. Men will be flattering and winsome and they will speak over you- raise your voice if need be. The only time a queen is out of line is when she does not stand up for herself, her subjects and her family.”

Devasena absorbed those words into her mind and locked them deep within her, laying the seeds of her iron personality.

 

 ---------------------

 

As the years went by, she learned to carry herself with grace and authority. Sumitra Devi was sharp as steel, but hid it under layers of womanly charm and affected submission. Devasena found herself being taught more about control and power than she had ever imagined. By the time she was sixteen, her sister in law had schooled most of the brashness out of her, but she could not iron out the base instinct of feral aggression that lay inside her.

“Everyone fears a wolf but they kill it with spears and fire. Understand, little sister, no man can tame an angry elephant. It is imperative that your anger until your breaking point must be channeled into solutions, but when the time for solutions is past- _you must crush them_.”

Sumitra Devi was not given to fury herself, but she had seen enough men in her time to understand what worked. Devasena grew to respect her sister’s leather-tough personality, even if she privately considered that she was much too soft on the outside.

 

 ---------------------

 

She stormed into Sumitra’s room seething, fists clenched. Sumitra stood up immediately, wrapping her in a hug and stroking her back until she let her shoulders drop.

“What happened, little sister?”

“They do not listen to me in Court. They all talk over me, even your husband.” She spat out.

“Why do you think they disregard you?”

“Because I am young, and I am inexperienced.”

“Why do you think they should listen to you?”

“I understand this better than they do, even better than that old crone Chandran! He doesn’t see that stopping these ships will kill our traders! All he thinks about is pirates and fear, that scared leech.” Devasena was breathing heavily, pacing the room as Sumitra Devi folded her hands and waited.

“Help me! Tell me how I can make them listen to me!” she screamed at her sister.

“This old crone Chandran. Why is he listened to?” Sumitra Devi's voice was even, disguising the introspection behind it.

“He’s old, therefore perceived as wise. He’s held the position for decades, so they think he’s experienced. Neither of those is true.” She barked out a laugh.

“Your task is to expose him. How do you show them that their perception of him is not true?”

“I tried that already! I told them of how Anupa stopped those ships and their traders are starving, of historic trends with imports and local trade, and they don’t listen to a ‘wee lass’!” she parroted their nickname for her in court, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.

“Well, they call you a wee lass. You called them…?”

“Nothing, sister! I’m not going to call them names and insult them to get their attention!” even as she frowned, Devasena knew that that was the wrong answer.

“So instead, you will praise them and flatter them. Try praising them to me. Imagine I am my husband.” Sumitra stood with her legs apart, chin raised and a defiant stare, prompting both of them to giggle before Devasena resumed her stoicity.

“Oh respected Chandran, please elaborate on that point. I only ask you to repeat, because I fear if they ships stopped bringing in the necessary silver, your plans for a ninth ring on your hand might be thwarted.”

“He is already wearing four on each hand, isn’t he?” contemplated Sumitra. “Good, little sister, that was not a bad effort, but even your jibes must be playful and embarrassing and never anything more.”

Devasena happily practiced lines on her way back, and the court listened to the wee lass.

 

 ---------------------

 

The swish of the sword cutting through the air was music to her ears. A mechanical drill, nothing more. She could let her body do the work and put her mind to rest for a while, feeling nothing but the movement of her arms and the ground beneath her feet. It had been almost an hour, and she was beginning to tire.

“Playtime is over! Come, Devasena, let us walk about the fields, it’s a lovely day.” smiled Kumaravarma.

The summer breeze played with the hem of her clothes, lifting them up and pulling them about. Her pace was steady, anklets jingling against her feet in a steady beat to the lilting tune of Kumaravarma’s innocent flirting. She walked about the palace grounds, dreaming about the upcoming festivals as he prattled on. Obliviousness was second nature to him, but she did not mind. It gave her more time to think about things she did not have the privacy to mull over when alone.

For she was not ever alone, they wouldn’t leave her in peace! Always there was some royal business to attend to, or somebody with a personal problem who needed consolation and resolution, or her own duties to execute. A princess she was, but with less time to herself than a farmer’s daughter.

As they neared the rice fields, she hiked up her skirt to her hips, ignoring his mock surprise. Pulling the hem of her pallu around her waist, she opened her hair out and skipped through the damp mud, laughing without a care in the world.

This was the idyllic world that Devasena wanted to last forever. Her rational brain informed her directly that there would be war, famine, poverty, disease; but she knew, that in this moment, her life was her own, and she would do what she wanted to with it.

 


	2. First, Shailaputri.

Chapter 1: Shailaputri

“The Kingdom is blessed with a princess”, the crier announced in the city the following morning. “Born at midnight, fair as the sun, beauty personified, with a healthy body and strong voice, the daughter has come to Kuntala!”

The people rejoiced heartily, and decked out the streets in colorful glory. After almost a century, Kuntala had begotten a daughter, and the relief was bright in every person’s face.

Jaya Varma leaned cautiously over the cradle and peered into the sleeping face of his sibling. He lifted up one closed fist and shook it gently, a smile spreading over his face. He traced her toes with awe and turned to their mother. “Look at her toenails!”

She smiled down at him. Leaning back into the cushions, she asked, “Do you like her, Jayu?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “I can teach her everything and she’ll play with me. It’s boring to play _paandi_ alone, now I have a friend Ma!” he beamed.

“What do you want to name her, Jayu?”

He mulled over the question, absently stroking the top of the child’s head as she leaned sleepily into the warmth of his touch. “Parvati” he mused.

“Of the mountains… a good suggestion, child.” his mother agreed. “Come back when she is awake, Jayu, and you can play with her.” She dismissed him, exhausted.

Jayavarma threw one last glance back into the room and dragged his feet unwillingly out the doorway.

 

 

\---------------- 

 

 

“Devasena! Come!” he shouted in delight. “Come to me!”

The child swayed precariously, clutching onto the wall for support. With great concentration and effort, she stomped one foot down, encouraged by her brother’s cheering from three feet ahead. Propelling herself forward by the genius idea of pushing her body against the wall, she was soon in his lap. Nestling into the hollow of his thighs, she suckled on the honeyed candy as he stroked her head and sang a song he had composed for her.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful child that ever was born in our kingdom?” he cooed into her ear. She swatted at his face and he caught her hands in his. “The ruler should learn many things, and master all the arts, and protect the people. Now who will do that?”

“Jay!” she exclaimed happily.

“Yes Jay, but also Devasena.” Jayavarma nuzzled his nose against hers.

 

\---------------- 

 

“Oh come, Jay, it’s nothing!” she laughed, looking down at his concerned face.

“Get down immediately. Bulls are made for ploughing the fields, they are not carriages!” Jayavarma admonished.

“It’s great fun! Let’s race to the south border of the hills, loser will manage the Sinhapura delegation next week”. The offer was too good to refuse. Jayavarma grinned and leaped onto the next bull. It shook vigorously but he held on steadfast and speaking in soothing tones and after a few minutes of trying to throw him off, it groaned and pushed ahead.

“The contest begins!” she declared and raced ahead. He was catching up to her worryingly fast, and she zig-zagged her way, delaying his chase by blocking his path. The guards had given up on her security several years ago and they watched from the sidelines, betting on the winner. As she cut through the wind, with her _pallu_ flying behind her in a cape of victory, she saw her brother approaching from a diagonal path. ‘Oh you cunning man!’, she whispered and gave chase, speeding up with eyes narrowed, leaning in front and spurring her ride on. She could see the mud path where the soil was dug up, marking the boundary of the palace and the base of the hills, and as Jayavarma nearly reached the line, with ten feet to spare, Devasena gave a distracting loud yell and leaped off her running bull, falling back-first into the mud.

“Devasena! Are you hurt?!” Jayavarma was running anxiously to her.

“Barely a scratch.” As he turned her arm over looking for bruises, she leaned in close to his face and staring into his eyes, said “I won.”

“By falling off your ride! That isn’t a race, that’s a disqualification” he argued, still dusting the mud patches off of her.

“My bull was still running when I hit the line. You never said I had to be on the bull when I reached the spot, and here I am, victorious and triumphant!” her words were high and clear, and the tinkling notes of her laughter soon had him smiling as well. She always found a way to make him smile, no matter how alarming the situation was.

 

\---------------- 

 

Devasena had taken Kumaravarma and gone to the mountain range near which the palace was built. She had tied up her saree in a hunter’s fashion and coiled her long dark hair into a tight bun. Hauling herself up onto the lowest boulder, she swung her leg up and began climbing. It took them the better part of an hour, but when they reached the peak, she was happy to have put in the effort.

The mountains were her sanctuary. The first time she had made the arduous ascent was as a four year old, tied to Jayavarma’s back as he huffed and puffed his way up. He would not trust the guards with his baby sister, and instead took double the time and effort to get her up safely. Since that first trip, she had grown fonder and fonder of the patch of grass on the very top of the hill, the streams that ran down the slopes, and the clouds that seemed far closer when on the peak.

Kumaravarma had become her escort on these trips, for he understood when to be quiet and when to talk- a gift that her brother did not possess, and which annoyed her more than she could politely say. He put down his sack and spear, and lay down on the soft grass, looking up serenely at the misty clouds.

Devasena sat down a little distance away, wiggling her toes. She could think in peace, about everything and nothing at once, give voice to her deepest reflections and not worry about being overheard, and while away an entire day without being interrupted. Kumaravarma would stand guard.

The mountains had enough berries and fruits and freshwater so they rarely brought anything with them except paper and ink, and a spear each. It was a pleasant day, and Kumar pointed up at a passing cloud. “Mango”, he started. She smiled at the childish game. “That one?” she asked him. He thought for a while, and by the time he had a response it had merged into another cloud. “A lamp?” he tried, haltingly.

They played the game until sunset, in-between for food, and with long moments of silence where he hummed and whistled a few tunes, and she day dreamed- about hitting moving targets, about vast fields of paddy, about beaches and seashores. Devasena dreamed and dreamed, letting her mind flit from thought to thought organically. As the sun went down slowly, she dreamed of dancing, _dheem-dheem-dheem-tha-dheem-dheem_ , and letting the rhythm flow from her mind through her body, she danced away, her elegant form silhouetting against the setting sun’s warm rays. Coming to a slow stop, she bowed and worshipped the cool ground, her personal stage. Kumaravarma cheered and clapped, face lit up in honest joy.

As they made their way back down the steep path, he asked her, “Devasena, why can’t we live in the mountains?  It’s serene and happy, why go back to level ground?”

“I have thought about running away to the mountains so many times.” She confessed.

“Why not carry through on it? Let’s run away Deva, let’s never go back.” His eyes shone with hope.

“A sanctuary must be respected, Kumara”, she sighed. “If I live here, I will bring my troubles and worry into these trees and then where will I go when I want peace?”

Stepping carefully down a split boulder, she continued, “Home is home, and a home is not always calm and happy because that is how homes must be, and we find ourselves shrines like these to come to when the noise gets unbearable and the heart gets tired.”

“Deva, you think so much!” he admired openly. “Sumitra is intelligent, but you say things like I can understand.”

“Kumar, you are too kind. I may be sharper, but that extends to my tongue as well. I bring trouble upon myself!” she laughed and skipped ahead.

 

\---------------- 

 

Sumitra Devi was deep in thought. Sitting under the neem tree, she was doodling sketches onto the ground. The privilege of being a queen over being a princess was that she could dismiss her entourage and have true solitude. Jayavarma leaned over the balcony and gazed intently at her. Raising her eyes, she shook her head and returned to her musings.

Devasena was the source of all trouble in her household. She was innovative, opinionated and hot-headed, and while she could manage one of those attributes as a time, together it was nothing short of a whirlpool of arguments. Sumitra loved her, but was mature enough to know that she would soon invite a calamity upon them if let loose outside Kuntala. Who would marry a princess who was tactless? Anything else was forgiven as a character fault- quick temper, dullness, unskilled- nothing was beyond compromise. But a princess who was as quick to fight as her sister, was a real source of concern. Kuntala would either wage war or go under attack within the next four years if Devasena had any say in it.

 

\---------------- 

 

Flicking her braid back, she stood up. “This Council is a congregation of cowards. All due respect.” She sat back down.

Stunned into silence, the bickering crowd gaped at her. Recovering his wits quickly, Jayavarma seethed, “That is no way for a princess to speak.”

“If the ruler speaks not in times of crisis, the people will.”

“You insult the intelligence of the council? Let us hear your superior ideas.” He challenged. It was a tribute to the royal scholars that even in anger, they had taught him to debate rather than fight pointlessly.

Devasena stepped on to the dais. “Listen well, and think over what I say. I remind you to judge my thoughts, and not judge me instead.” She smiled pointedly at the older members of the council.

“We need more money than we have and our people will starve seven months from now if we consume as we do now. You want to bring in money by selling out our stocks of grains to Mahishmathi. Don’t you realise that is the most effective way to become dependent on them, and have them overthrow us once we glut them?”

“A risk that we always run, no matter what we do.” Countered a minister.

“If you are always liable to have lightning fall on your head, would you rather go into your house or stand under a tree?” She stared him down.

“Then propose a solution!” challenged another.

“Build our navy.”

The hall tittered and snickered. “Letting the floor to children is always amusing” an old man mocked Jayavarma. He turned red and glared at his sister. Raising an eyebrow, he nodded for her to convince them quickly.

“If you can hear the joke, you can laugh.” Her jibe made Sumitra wince. The girl would never back down from a fight, and was forgetting her lessons in faked diplomacy under stress.

“As I was saying, I propose we build a bigger navy. Build a small fleet initially, let our traders take their grains to the islands beyond, Sinhapura, Lankai, Japaan, Mareechiya. They bring back more money, which we reinvest in building a harbor.”

A quiet councilman arose. “All due respect. That will deplete most of our treasury. What will we do seven months from now? We cannot afford to lose money like that. Our coffers run low as it is.”

“That is why I say we empty the coffers. Scoop until the very bottom and spend it now.”

The council erupted in anger. “The princess would have us starve!”

“No, your calculation is wrong. We will not starve. One trade cycle will take three quarters of a month. We buy all our grain stocks from the traders now. Send them to the islands, and have them work on a commission basis- they make money hand over fist. The first cycle, we allocate half the proceeds to the construction fund and employ our people first. Pay them wages and buy their wood for materials. The next cycle, we allocate three quarters of the proceeds to construction of a large harbour. One and a half months from now, we should have a steady flow of money by our maritime sales, and in addition to that, we will be a port of landing for foreign ships and we collect revenues on wharfage, cargo, pilotage and port dues. Four months from now, we will become a tourist destination. Seven months from now, we will be in surplus, reversing inflation.” She sat down, eyes roving over the thoughtful faces of the participants.

Jayavarma sent the council for lunch. When they reconvened an hour later, the nay-sayers were vastly outnumbered.

“Is this a calculated move, Devasena?” was the King’s only question.

“Yes, Your Highness. I can prove everything that I just said. I am aware it’s a great risk, but I am confident beyond doubt that this will succeed.” She voiced seriously.

“It is agreed. Order the traders’ guild to meet us tomorrow to negotiate the rates of grains.” He heaved a sigh of relief and dismissed the convention. Turning to his sister, he gave her a smile. “I am proud of you, little sister. One stone, two mangoes, isn’t it?” he teased.

“No, today was not a day for improvement, Jay! It was about attacking problems that may have brought Kuntala to ruins. I think a more apt phrase would be ‘one blade, three heads’. I have removed your unemployment problem, deficit issue and exposure to war from the seas.” She beamed proudly at him.

“And in the next council, you will stand in better stead. Do try to mind your words though, dear.” He tried vaguely.

“That is not possible. If they are stupid, they must leave the council and stay at home growing sheep.” she deadpanned.

“Ah, well” he always gave in too easily, he knew. How could he stand ground against this raging force of nature? He patted her hand gently and left.

 

\---------------- 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Shailaputri’ means the daughter of mountains.  
> ‘She is also known as Sati Bhavani, Parvati or Hemavati. She is the first among Navadurgas and devotees worship her on the first day of Navaratri. Goddess Shailaputri symbolizes the power of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. She rides a bull and carries a trident along with a lotus in her hands. Shailaputri is believed to be the rebirth of Sati, and was the daughter of Daksha, and the wife of Lord Shiva. Yellow is the color of the day.’
> 
> Wishes on Mahalaya. This is one evening early, as I want you to know about shailaputri today, so when the world celebrates her tomorrow, you know what's going on.  
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	3. Second, Brahmacharini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a part of the Navaratri series and will be updated daily.

Gurukulam was for all children without any discrimination, but Jayavarma stubbornly refused to send his sister out to the hamlet on the hill to learn. It had been seven days, and the shouting matches showed no signs of ceasing. As he finished up his work for the day and headed to the dinner hall, he slowed down and drew deep breaths. From the dead silence inside, he knew a storm was brewing.

Seating himself, he nodded politely to his sister and smiled at his patient wife. When they finished the rice and moved on to the fruits at the end of the meal, Devasena cleared her throat. He continued peeling the banana as if he had not heard it.

“Susheela tells me she found new berries on the hillside trees.” She tried, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Possibly new to her because she hasn’t been inside the palace gardens.”

“I saw them too, and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Very good, did you find out what it’s called?”

“No, because no one here knows of it.”

He looked around the room in mock surprise. “Oh, so am I the last to see these wonderful berries then?” he enquired.

“We ate them all. There aren’t any left that you can see.” She said sullenly.

“Oh come on! Just one for your brother?” he knew he had the upper hand.

“I am going and that’s the end of it!” she shouted and stood up.

“Sit down princess.” The authority was crystal clear in the command. “You will have the tutors brought here and you will learn from them. There is no necessity to go live in hills to become a scholar.”

She was furious, and her nine-year old frame could not contain her rage, and it leaked out of her eyes in tears. With a clogged voice, she shouted into her brother’s face, “You went! You went and learned and you made friends, and you won’t give me that! All you want is for me to sit around within four walls like a chicken! Like, like a boring little girl!”

“It’s not safe for you to live unmonitored in a hut, far away from us. You are young and you will not understand.”

“I can hunt, I can kill and I can fight – what am I not protected against?!” she screamed, enraged further at his even tone.

“There is no safety in sending you off to live with others when you could stay here with us.”

She clutched at her hair in frustration. The argument always went around in circles.

 

\-----------------------

 

At the following day’s dinner, Jayavarma glanced questioningly at the empty seat next to Kumaravarma. The boy shook his head and focused on quietly eating and disappearing to his room. Jayavarma lost his appetite, worry filling him instead. He had not had enjoyable experiences historically after Devasena missed dinners with him. Rising, he went in search of her.

The moonlight streaking in through the curtains lit up her silhouette where she was sitting on the balcony. He sat in front of her, already regretting that he had come to her lair instead of negotiating on common ground. Devasena turned her face away with a heavy sigh that was quite obviously affected, but both of them were gracious enough to not mention it.

“Eat with us, sister.” He cajoled.

“I will have nothing else to do in my life, I can eat at any time.” She sighed again dramatically.

Altogether the sighing was getting too much for the king, as was the ceaseless debating.

“When will you eat?”

Turning to face him, she stared intensely into his eyes and declared, “When I get permission from my family to be educated in the gurukulam.”

“And if that is not given?”

“I will die of starvation.”

“Pity we should lose you so easily.” He leaped to his feet and exited quickly, inwardly gleeful as he imagined her dumbstruck face.

 

\------------------------

 

The news soon spread through the palace of the princess’s fast unto death and the merchants who supplied to the kitchens soon announced the news to the town as well. As one day drew into the next, the Royal Scholar addressed the issue in court fearlessly.

“We hear the princess has resolved to fast until she is allowed to learn with the other children at the gurukulam. Is this true? When did she last eat?” she questioned Jayavarma.

“It is true, that much I will confirm. She last had lunch the day before yesterday, so with today’s lunch that should be five meals forgone. Now to other business…”

The clamour of the assembly drowned out his agenda. Shouts went up, “Let her learn, let her learn!” and Jayavarma had his first taste of mutiny in his court. He looked to Sumitra in alarm and she shook her head, eyes glittering in mischief. He glared back at his wife and stood up, raising his hands for silence.

“The demands of _your_ princess are unreasonable. She will be taught inside the palace, and well taught at that. No fault will be found in her tutelage. Is that sufficient?” his tone brooked no arguments.

The Royal Scholar was made of iron. “Her demand is not unreasonable, Your Highness. She wants to learn at the gurukulam. There is no drawback in that request.” She went on to list all the great minds who had been shaped by the gurukulam, and the benefits of a live-in education. The court was silently listening, with a noticeable number of glares pointed his way. He knew his contentions would never hold water before adults, and had counted on her bending to his will. Who could have guessed the girl was more stubborn than he? As the Scholar rambled on and on, he gave in with a quiet sigh.

“Well then, she may break her fast, can’t she Your Highness?” the lady concluded with a tone of finality.

“Very well. Now if you please, moving on…” he indicated the parchment with the long list of agenda items.

Sumitra excused herself and left the hall.

 

\-----------------------

 

“I can’t believe it!” Devasena squealed in joy, running madly about the room. “I will live there, eat there, hunt my own food, climb trees,…”

Sumitra interrupted, “Also some studying?”

“Yes yes of course, mostly studying, but think about everything else I can do, not bounded by these stupid rules about court appearances and attending pointless debates on moot topics!” Her joy was palpable, and permeated the room.

“Perhaps I should accompany you, just to be safe” murmured Sumitra.

Devasena sat down immediately, looking panicked. “No, that cannot happen, I must live with only my guru and his family and my fellow students, no!” she broke off in relief, seeing Sumitra’s teasing smile.

“Don’t even joke about pulling me away” she warned the lady.

“But I do plan to send Kumar to your care in half a year.”

“You can’t be serious?!” said Devasena, shocked. “He doesn’t even want to learn! Let him live here in peace and practice his swords.”

Sumitra gave her a neutral nod, and Devasena filed away the debate for another day. For now, it was sufficient to rejoice in her victory.

 

\----------------------- 

 

Jayavarma stormed into her room soon after. “What do you think of yourself, inciting revolt against me?” he thundered.

Devasena faced up to him, squaring her shoulders. “I requested, and then I rebelled. I didn’t ask anyone else to revolt for me. If they did, that is your problem, not mine.” She was thankful her voice did not shake. She was incredibly nervous as defeat threatened to steal away the victory she had caught by chance.

“You have now proven to Kuntala that anyone need only to fast for their every wish to be granted. You have given them evidence that blackmail works against your King.” His rage had not abated.

Devasena frowned. “You distilled the wrong essence, brother. The Scholar fought for me because my desire was harmless, and denied for untenable reasons. No one else can try to get their way just by fasting. The people are not unintelligent, and I know my brother is smarter than to let dieting men force their way in his court.” Her voice had softened by the end and a hand reached out to stroke her brother’s face.

Jayavarma breathed in harsh whispers, and turned to Sumitra. They shared a glance and in perfect harmony stepped to the balcony to discuss it privately. Devasena chewed her lip as she watched them from the room. They returned and she noted that Sumitra had managed to calm him down as he smiled graciously at her. Running into his outstretched arms, she hugged his middle and extended an arm to Sumitra, with a joyful smile.

He leaned down and knocked on her head. “Well then princess, how about some dinner before we send you to eat fruits and berries on the mountains?” Devasena laughed in delight and nodded eagerly.

“Only water and nothing else have I had!” she exclaimed. “You cannot imagine how hungry I have been!”

“Oh, I don’t have to imagine it. I know the experience, although it was for three days, not one.”

She spun around on him, eyes searching his. “When? Why? Who were you fighting?”

His smirk sent her on a flight of emotions and her innocent face too naïve to hide them saw her flit through surprise, anger, relief and amazement. She turned to Sumitra and gestured questioningly.

“Yes, I knew too.” She answered slyly.

“And you still let me do it! The same thing, the same request, all over again! Why?”

“So that you understand the power of hunger and what it does to you. It made me more focused and more stubborn, and by the time I realized my madness had consumed me, I was near a dead faint. If it were not for the Scholar- yes the same lady fought for me too- I would have let my willful head kill me before the animals of the forests had a chance.”

“Can I hunt the animals?” Devasena popped out the question before she realized the import of his words. Blushing, she amended, “Yes, sorry, I do understand the power of focus and the limits of my endurance. I promise I will only take an oath if it is for a truly important reason.”

“So if your counter-party does not agree to give you something, in future you will-?”

“I will negotiate and negotiate until I get it. I will not abuse my body to get things done.”

“Well learnt, princess. Sometimes a practical demonstration is more useful than verbally expounding theories. Devasena, I am sorry you had to starve, but it’s not a cheap lesson.” His words were filled with sorrow.

“It was worth the price. Now before there is another public outcry, feed me!” she ran towards the kitchens, the couple following her.

 

\------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Brahmacharini'- a female student, an unmarried woman.   
> 'The second powerful manifestation of Goddess Durga is Devi Brahmacharini who prayed for over a thousand years to please Lord Shiva. Devi Brahmacharini is worshipped on the second day of Navratri.   
> The maiden Parvati resolved to marry Shiva. Her parents learned of her desire and discouraged her from pursuing Shiva. However, Parvati did not lose hope and resolved to win over Shiva. She begins to live in mountains like Shiva, engages in the same activities as Shiva, of that of asceticism and tapa. It is this aspect of Parvati that is deemed to be that of goddess Brahmacharini. Pleased with her devotion, Shiva married her.'
> 
> Gurukulam means a system of learning where the students live with the teacher, typically a hermit, in his house. They function as a family, with the rigour and camaraderie of a boarding school. 
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	4. Third, Chandraghanta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first amarsena chapter of the Navaratri series.

Devasena had had her suspicions about the simpleton and his uncle, but it was when he leaped down the hallway, and dragged her running about with him, that her doubts solidified. When he gripped her hand, she knew it was no foolish farmboy, but a king of majestic strength who held her hand.

They ran down corridors, fighting to preserve her palace’s safety, and even as she drew arrows at lightning speed, a dreamy portion of her mind sprang up with unexpected thoughts of spending the rest of her life by his side, running and shooting with him, and singing to him.

He yanked her by the elbow, out of the way of an incoming arrow and she had not felt as secure anywhere as she did in his arms. She deliberately brushed by his torso as she stood back up to fight. He had not seemed to notice, eyes focused on targets several feet away. Devasena sighed and let loose another volley of arrows on the invaders who stole her beloved’s attention from her. Death to those who distracted him from her!

A surprise attack of a horde of these savages was rushing down the long corridor, the infestation swarming from the trees. He stood to her left and taught her in clipped words, time and speech of the essence. ‘He knows how to fire more than one arrow!’ she delighted in amazement, even as she mimicked his fingers.

‘What long, beautiful fingers’, she sighed mentally and raised her wrist, mirroring his position.

The grace of his hands as he turned his palm outward and reached back over his shoulder to pull out three arrows was quite appreciated by the insistent part of her mind that would rather focus on him than these flies of attackers.

“Dwaja!” the command was so regally delivered that she obeyed before she realized it. Their combined arrows found a seat in the enemy, with not a single one gone to waste.

By the time they were close to sunrise, they had secured their palace and he had revealed his true name. Devasena held her earnest demeanor purely by force of will, instinct begging her to run to his side.

Baahubali requested, “Come with me, Devasena.” And she wanted to say, “Forever”, but he ruined it asking her to accompany him as a prisoner.

Her pride fanned the flames of her anger, and she thundered, “Even as your handmaiden, yes, but never as a prisoner!” Her eyes shone with the fury of a scorned woman and Amarendra felt his heart burning up a little from the sheer heat she emanated.

One minute a delicate flower, the next a warrior who would never back down- her constant duality would never cease to surprise him.

 

The next morning, she waited impatiently on the steps as her sister-in-law jabbered away at her man, who was courteous even as he kept glancing at her. God, that she would learn some of his patience!

She smiled one last time at her brother and his wife, and followed her betrothed to the ship. Her eyes followed his muscled back, dreaming about summer afternoons in a room with billowing curtains, his voice by her ear, her hand ensconced in his, and before she could join him on the boat, the plank broke.

The people surrounding them, trained to protect her and provide for her every comfort hunted for another plank. The man who pledged his soul to her jumped without a second thought into the cool waters, standing chest-high in his wet clothes, before he ensured that she was not hurt. _‘Do you see I can come to no harm, Amarendra, as long as you are no more than three feet away from me? Do you see only I can hurt myself, and I know you will still jump in to save me even if I do?’_ She was fairly certain she would voice it all if she spoke at all, and flashed a small smile at him in response.

Holding her pallu in her hand, she stepped onto his arm, praying that he would hold her up. She could feel the tension in his muscles, hard as a boulder, as she tread lightly, rejoicing in the feeling of being supported in the most literal sense by her fiancé. Sitting on the cushioned seat, she turned slightly to him and nodded challengingly. His answering smile lit up her heart and sent her flying above the clouds.

 

When they were far far away from their families, and they were truly alone with each other, she stepped up to his chest and pushed herself into his space. He seemed to be a man of few words, and even slower action. Devasena sought out his eyes, pleading and inviting without words.

‘Why oh why doesn’t he come to me!’ she cried mentally and closed her eyes, face upturned. She inched closer and closer, she could feel his breath mixing with hers, but where she expected his lips, she only met the sharp hair of his beard. ‘Don’t be so cruel with me!’ she gazed into his face.

Baahubali was smirking, and she understood in a flash of revelation- he had chased her for the first act, now that he had won her heart, he wanted to be wooed. ‘I can do that, I can win you over!’ she was elated. Before she could act on her intentions, he placed a hand on the side of her jaw, long fingers pressing down on her hair and he leaned down. ‘Oh, you only wanted me to understand that you wanted me to want you?’ her thoughts raced a mile a minute and suddenly everything went white, as he pressed his lips on hers, and her eyes fell shut. The force of his kiss blanked out her mind, and she could think of nothing but holding on and never letting go.

He raised his other hand to the small of her back, drawing her closer to him, and when she breathed in, she felt her chest rising against his and she whimpered. He brushed his nose against hers, lips grazing the edge of her mouth, and her heart almost broke with want. She clutched onto his arms and pushed up to leverage their heights together. He smiled and she could feel the stretch of his lips against hers, and she laced her fingers together behind his neck.

Within seconds, though, she was sliding down again. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and braced her against a pillar, surrounding her on all sides and kissing her so ferociously that she was lost, sinking in the sensations, memory a faint echo of lives led until this point, until nothing mattered but being with him, living with him, holding his hand, being his wife, having him in her life. He became the single flame that cast light into her life, the lighthouse that drew her ship to shore, the cajoling feeling of warmth that kept her happy and content.

Devasena was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Shiva terrorises her family with his fearsome warrior persona, she appears as Chandraghanta, a warrior equal to him or better, holding a sword, a mace, a trident, and flowers and water with a peaceful demeanor, yet riding bravely on a tiger to remind him that when provoked she can become vengeful and furious. She is beautiful, adorned with a crescent half-moon, and Shiva also becomes like her, adorned with princely gear and jewels instead of the skulls and bones and ash that he sports.  
> I really felt that this was their dynamic. 
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	5. Fourth, Kushmanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kushmanda is where the goddess's soul begins to split- symbolising different aspects of a woman.

Kushmanda: The tale of origin.

The kingdom of Kuntala had been tense, the gender of Jayavarma’s little sibling had not been revealed by the physicians. Whether this was out of fear of evil eye for a daughter, or fear of anxiety if it was a son, was hotly debated in the kingdom. Half the populace believed that the swell of the queen’s belly, heavier in the lower part than more rounded, indicated it would be a girl. The other half, though pessimistic, secretly hoped their opposing faction was right. It had been more than half a century since there had been a girl child in Kuntala’s royal family. The gossip had peaked when a visiting astrologer declared callously that it was a curse that ‘the Goddess would never be born here, no amount of wealth can cure you’. He had been talking about the house of an infamous miser, but it was soon twisted beyond comprehension and some well-meaning groups of people had laid out prayers seeking forgiveness- for what crime, it was unclear.

As the evening stretched lazily into night, the city went to sleep, and was awoken to the good news of a daughter for Kuntala. The town went mad, singing and dancing, but none was as happy as Jayavarma-he could put all the bad omens aside now.

 

 ------------------- 

Shakthi: 

At the age of eleven, Devasena began to bleed. Despite all the texts she had read, the lectures from the physicians and her own handmaids, she still could not digest the fact that, for no fault of her own, she would have to endure monstrous pain and lose blood for the better part of a week.

Nodding sagely, she dismissed her handmaidens and sat down alone on the cool bamboo mat, leaning against the wall. Deep breaths did not lessen the pain in her belly. Rocking back and forth, she pushed down on her abdomen, and found some relief. Minutes later, the pain resumed with twice the force, and she whimpered.

Barely three days ago, she had hunted down a wild boar and skinned it. She wondered through the haze of her pain whether this was divine retribution for the pain she had caused to the defenceless animal. Shaking her head, she focused on getting through the next few minutes. ‘One breath at a time, one breath at a time’, she chanted to herself. It did not work.

She fell asleep, determined to ignore the cramping however she could. When she awoke, it was to the sight of the setting sun casting its last orange rays into her room. Relieved that there was no pain, she stood up, and immediately screamed.

In her sleep, she had bled through her clothes and stained her mat red. Devasena broke down crying, helpless and anguished. Hearing her sobs, the handmaidens helped her up, cleaned her off and gave her fire-warmed vessels to hold against her body. She went to sleep in the arms of her nurse, still wrapping the hot copper bars against her belly. Her lullaby was a new one, murmured into her ear, “You are courage, you are bravery, you know no fear, a girl has no fear, bear it out, Devasena…”

 

\------------------

Lakshmi:

It was the eve of her fifteenth birthday. Tomorrow, she would be sitting beside her brother as he and Sumitra got engaged. Jayavarma had made specific requests of her, that she come dressed in clothes like a woman, not in hunting attire, and wear some jewellery on her person. He wanted to create a favourable impression of his family on his fiancée. Devasena acquiesced reluctantly, allowing her tailors to go at her only for his sake.

As the day dawned, her nurse bathed her once more. “I already bathed, Poorani-ma! Look, no dirt!” she protested. A stern look was all the response she was graced with. The old lady scrubbed away with coconut hairs and groundnut flour paste, mixed with aloe vera and turmeric. The last part was soaking in oil for the better part of an hour, and the glowing figure that emerged from the bath was nothing like the scruffy hunter who terrorized rampaging animals in their fields.

Jayavarma stopped in by her room an hour later, catching the edges of laughter. Knocking, he leaned in, “Devasena, the ceremony starts in under an hour. I hope …” shock swallowed the rest of his sentence.

She shimmered in the sunlit mirrors, raw orange silk dappling over her lanky frame, wrapping the bony edges of her shoulders and elbows in a long green blouse, her hair tied back in a long braid to not distract from her face. Her handmaidens had spared no expense, drawing curves of kohl on her eyes, lips stained a deep pink and gleaming in coconut oil.

She wore a head-chain that anchored on to the parting of her hair, and embraced her hair in twin curtains of beads curving around her hair. Retaining her individuality, she wore naught but one long beaded gold chain, unlike her maidens who wore three chains each.

Her saree was secured against her waist by a thin gold chain, customized with a sheath in which the tip of her dagger shone dully. He coughed and said, “Is- is that knife really necessary?”. She threw him a disappointed glance and turned back to her mirror, lifting one awkward leg onto a cushion as a maid strung an anklet around it. Dropping the skirt, she pranced to her brother, anklets jingling shrilly.

“Do I look ‘presentable’?” she demanded haughtily.

“I rather fear my engagement will be over-wrought with the demands of the visiting assembly for your hand in marriage.” He smirked.

She grimaced and pointed to the dagger on her hip. “I will kill anyone who interrupts your ceremony.”

“Not necessary, I have guards I pay to do that very job. If you would kindly be seated in silence, I would be much obliged, Yuvarani.”

She complained all the way to the hall. “You’ve been seeing each other for years, she’s already betrothed to you. Why do you make a fuss of it now? Asking me to dress up and be ‘ladylike’”, she voiced with total disdain.

“Grown up reasons. Don’t question your King.” He chuckled.

“I can’t wait to come of age and overthrow your dictatorial rule, you crackpot!”

 

\---------------

Saraswathi:

At the age of six, a courtier had been appointed to teach Devasena the fine arts of music, in all its forms. The first week of rising before dawn and dipping into the freezing lake to loudly hold a note, unwavering, had her in tears. It was only the promise of revenge on him that fueled her practice.

Three months had gone past, and Devasena proved herself capable of a vocal range that was on par with the children of generational musicians. This spurred on the tutor with enthusiasm and she cursed herself daily for having shown him her prowess. As she sat in the open terrace singing four-note exercises, she kept herself awake imagining creative ways to get back at him.

The tutor rapped her hard on the knuckles one day for missing a beat, and she was so offended, she practiced the beat every day for the next four months until she could tell which section of the rhythm was playing by the internal timekeeping of her heartbeat. Five months after the punishment, the tutor sat down on the floor, only to have the tile give way to a large vat of lake water beneath. As he gasped for breath, shocked into non-vocalisation, Devasena loudly pitched a note and held it for two minutes, just as he had done to her.

At the age of seven, the teacher was so impressed by her quickly absorbent intellect that he brought in his friend from his village to teach her to dance, and another teacher to impart veena playing. Jayavarma had to leave the room, unable to stop his laughter at her agonized face.

Four years later, Devasena held an arangetram at the temple, the first performance of the kind, where she sang, played the veena, and danced, all in the course of a day. The temple was crowded with expectant people who thronged to see a glimpse of their beloved daughter. To the sounds of cheers and applause, she mesmerised the audience, cementing her status in their hearts.

Later that evening, changing into a simple skirt, removing the clinking heavy jewellery, she merged into the crowd as just another girl, weaving her way through the flower stalls, charming older women into braiding her hair, and playing hopscotch with a few other children. For just one evening, she was just another child walking through the twilit streets amidst her happy, simple people.

\---------------

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kushmanda created the universe, and the 9 gods, Mahakali, Mahalakshmi, Mahasaraswathi, Shakthi, Saraswathi, Lakshmi, Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma. There's enough text on the 3 men so I didn't bring them up.  
> As to standing waist-high in a freezing lake and practicing pitches- it is total truth. im not kidding, really. winters are the worst, summers slightly better.
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	6. Fifth, Skandamata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of the Navaratri series. AU, Amarendra lives.

“I can sit down, by myself. Not yet incapacitated.” She snapped at her handmaidens. Drawing a hand over her face, she apologised. “I’m sorry Devika, it’s just that I am so stressed today. I don’t know who will attend, and I want it to go better than the last time I attended court.” The women did not mind in the slightest, they had already made allowances for the emotionally volatile Princess.

Amarendra strode in a little while later, his attention drawn to his wife’s enormous belly. Chuckling, he kneeled by her plush chair, placing a kiss on the bump. He stood up and gave his wife the second kiss.

“Already you place him before me.” She grumbled.

“The only one who will ever precede you. Unless of course, you have another surprise for me soon…” he said.

“I would sooner-“

“Don’t! Don’t finish that sentence” he held up a hand over her mouth.

She batted it away and said, “Then don’t suggest it.”

He sat down by her feet and took one swollen ankle in his lap, massaging it softly. Devasena ran her fingers through his curly hair, eyes closed.

Soon, the guests began to arrive and the baby shower started in full ceremony. Amarendra tried not to cry when Sivagami did not pick up Devasena’s hand to push on a few bangles. He glanced at his wife’s face. She was staring straight ahead with a stony expression of calm. He swallowed hard and presented a smiling face to the assembly.

Kattappa was overjoyed to be appointed honorary grandfather, and simultaneously shocked at no longer answering to Amarendra, but instead to Sethupathy. He seethed where he stood a few feet from Devasena. She sought his eyes, drawing his attention to her bump. She nodded at him and sighed. She was the only thing that brought him comfort in that disaster of a morning.

 

\----------------- 

 

“Don’t you see, Mother? His envy for the throne spurs him on to kill me, next it would be you!” Bhalla’s histrionics were convincing enough that even Bijjaladeva stared open-mouthed.

Sivagami trembled where she sat. “Kattappa!”

He bowed, fearing the worst. Her anger and fear permeated the room, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bhallaladeva watching closely. Kattappa waited with bowed head, eyes trailing over Bijjaladeva as Sivagami was wrapped in thought. Bijjaladeva, one would expect, would have been angry or scared. Surprisingly, he looked satisfied.

Kattappa’s mind raced, even as Sivagami sat in thoughtful silence. He thought back to Kumaravarma, the evening’s events, Amarendra waiting with Devasena for their son to be born… his suspicions about the credibility of the king’s story increased.

Sivagami ordered for him to end Amarendra Baahubali and the co-conspirator Devasena. Kattappa bowed and left. He killed the soldiers accompanying him without a shred of doubt- these men had been sent from Bhalla’s personal entourage and no doubt had ulterior motives. Kattappa would kill God himself before he killed his son and daughter.

Alone, he trekked to the hut that housed the screaming Devasena. Amarendra came to receive him, and with the shortest possible greeting, returned to his wife.

 

\----------------- 

 

Devasena had been in labour for close to ten hours. The first bit of pressure had started after she had had lunch. Determined to not make a fuss, she sat quietly, stitching a shirt for her husband. As one particularly hard stroke of pressure shot through her two hours before sunset, the needle she was holding drove into air, missing the fabric by inches.

“Devika!” she whispered, clutching her abdomen. Gathering her energy, she shouted again, “Devika!”

The handmaiden who had given up her royal service to Devasena’s personal service, called back from the next hut. “What is it, Your Highness? I’m cooking, I can’t come. Tell me!”

“Devika!” was all she could manage before another wave of pain hit her. Panting, she staggered to the door. She called out to her friend once more and seeing her hunched form from her kitchen, Devika came running.

“Sit! Sit! I’ll get you through this!” she pulled the cot closer to the door and gingerly helped Devasena squat onto the bamboo mattress, back braced against the wall. “Clutch your knees, and breathe out.”

Devasena had only heard of hard labours. She had hoped that their child might be the easy one, but it seemed this would not be so. Her friend brought her water and a damp cloth and got her to undress and wear more comfortable clothes. “Thank-“ she had mistimed the sentence and the contraction following the word swallowed up all her ability for speech.

“Shhh, it’s alright, let the child come out healthy, don’t speak.” She shushed Devasena.

“Baahu?” enquired Devasena, drawing a deep breath a few minutes later. The contractions were far apart, and she had started her prayers, the chants she had planned for the birth.

“He will be here soon. I sent my son to fetch him.” Devika patted her hand.

Leaning back against the wall, Devasena ran her thumb over the inside of her knuckles, counting her chant. “Shri Matha, Shri Maharagnyee, Shri Math Simhasaneswari”, she murmured under her breath even as Devika hummed Om beside her.

Amarendra ran into the hut, sweaty and disheveled. “What, what, Devasena, where is the baby?” he asked frantically.

She was tempted to laugh. “I’ve been here for three hours, my love. The baby is taking a long time. Try to persuade him, would you?”

As the sun traded places with the moon, Devika sent Baahu to fetch the midwife. As he returned with Janani, they dismissed him, bidding him to wait outside with buckets of water and fresh clothes. He paced the hillside anxiously, listening to the intermittent screams that sounded from their house.

He regretted her stubbornness once more. Sivagami had offered for Devasena to have the royal physician set up a camp, with all the amenities that she herself had had. The strike against them would not be considered the fault of the child. Devasena had responded as well as could be expected.

A fresh peal of laughter resounded and he called from the border Devika had drawn for him, “Is everything all right?”

Devasena shouted back, the pain drugging her mind, “Of course everything is all right. You are in no pain, are you? I’m the one that has to bear pushing out a branch from where a twig would barely fit. I am positively in _heaven_!” She laughed like the insane. Devika peeped out with an apologetic look. “Perhaps the prince could pluck some fruits for her to eat afterwards?” she suggested, pushing him further away.

He climbed the mango tree, dropping the ripe yellow fruits into his towel. Swinging across to the next tree, he plucked some more when he spotted Kattappa’s bald head gleaming as he came running. Dropping quickly to the ground, he met him half-way. “Take me to my grandson!” he urged and they ran to the hut.

 

\----------------- 

 

“Devasena, you must remember, it hurts now, but your child will come soon, and then there won’t be any more pain.” Janani reminded, stroking the small of her back as she squatted over the stool. The only responses were grunts and groans. Amarendra shouted from the border in the sand, “Kattappa has come!” Devasena nodded, and Devika ordered, “He also stays outside.”

The two men nodded back at Devika and Kattappa explained to Baahu the order from Sivagami. His eyes widened in surprise. “Would you, mama would you really disobey her command?” he asked, struck numb.

“Of course Baahu! Family before everything else. I cannot harm a newborn or a pregnant woman. And I never would dare to fight Devasena otherwise, I know she is stronger than me. To attack when she is disadvantaged would be an act of cowardice.”

Amarendra shook his head. “Mama, would you disobey her order to kill me?” he insisted.

“The very notion that I could kill you is laughable, young man. No, all I plan to do is have you hidden away in the dungeons with my personal cache of guards, those men pledged to my life, those upon whom I have complete control, to guard you day and night.”

“Do you trust them?”

“No, I have enough power over their lives and their families’ lives that they would have to be insane to disobey me.” He grinned slyly.

“And what about Devasena and our child?” Baahu whispered.

“Devasena will be drugged for three days. The midwife will ensure that. The child, I planned to take back with me as proof of the lineage. Sivagami, I would suppose is already second-guessing her command, and with that, her son. When I take a child back, she will melt. You don’t know it, but I watch her every moment of every day, and she yearns for a grandchild. Bijjaladeva had to persuade her not to take the two of you back into the palace.”

Amarendra leaned against the tree. He asked worriedly, “What if she doesn’t? What if she orders for my son to be killed too?” Standing up, he drew his sword. “That is a risk I cannot take, Kattappa.”

“You don’t have to take it. Fortunately, a trader just had a child this morning. I am on my way to his house. I will switch the children, and your child will be safe in his house until I meet your family.”

Amarendra shook his head. “No, Kattappa, we cannot endanger that child. If Bhalla has that child killed, I cannot bear that guilt on my conscience.”

Kattappa’s face turned stern. “This is war, Baahubali. I am showing you the strategy for the least losses. You can either take my advice and risk losing a pawn, or lose your king on the chessboard. Think!” Throwing his arms up, he dragged him closer to the house. “Listen to your wife! Listen to her screaming, birthing your child. I made a promise to her. I cannot break my promise.” He threatened.

“But you already broke your promise to my family.”

“No! My oath of service is to obey the king, and protect the royal family. The king gave me no orders tonight. I am to protect the family, which is you and your wife and the child who is on its way here, and you attempt to block my duty. Do you see?”

Amarendra slowly nodded. With a deep breath, he said, “On one condition. I will see them before I go.”

“If Bhallaladeva sends no more troops, then you can. If I sight them from the hill top, you will run, and you will wait to see them for a week. Do you promise me this?”

“You have my word.”

“I knew you would accept.” Kattappa left out a sigh of relief. “Now, fight me. Make it believable.”

Amarendra cut and struck at Kattappa, who stood stock still, and when there was sufficient bleeding and wounds, they covered him with more dust while they waited. Who would come first, Bhalla’s men, or his child?

 

\----------------- 

 

Devasena woke to hot sun rays in her room. Stirring feebly, she tried to speak, but no words came. The air dragged painfully over her throat, and she fell back on the pillow. She closed her eyes and ran a full-body muscle check, like she was taught to after a fight. She could feel her head, and her eyes were blinking. She heard faint sounds from afar, and could smell the arid heat of her hut. Swallowing was difficult, and her teeth felt rotten. Her neck was stiff and her shoulders stiffer. A couple of moments later, she ascertained she was unhurt. But she felt, strangely, empty. Her eyes snapped open, lips opening in anguish. Tears fell from her eyes as she stared in agony at her flat stomach.

“Where is my child?!” she screamed into the empty room. “Where is he?! Where?” She stood up, feeling like someone had taken a mace to her insides. Every step sent her mind reeling into a cacophony of _‘no, wrong, sit, pain’_ but she ignored it all. Hobbling to the door, she cried again, “Devika!”

A clatter sounded as Devika rushed to her side, holding her up. “No, Devasena, sit down, please!”

“My baby” her voice, ragged and broken, sounded as feral as a tiger. Devika paled. “My baby” she repeated, glaring daggers at the woman she trusted, the woman she had let into the birthing hut, whose hand she had held during contractions, into whose shoulders she had cried and sobbed.

Devika sat her down at the door, checking her for bleeding between her thighs. She spoke as she worked. “Princess, you have been asleep three days. Sivagami holds your son to her bosom, has held on to him tight and loving for all these three days. Kattappa has your husband in hiding, safely. I saw him this morning when I went to deliver fruits to the kitchen, and my husband saw your son when he went to deliver mail.”

Devasena breathed, grief clouding her features. “I didn’t get to see him.” She whispered.

“You will soon, and he is glorious.” She smiled, already taken with the baby.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Kattappa told me to inform him when you awoke. I’ll send my child to fetch him. Before he comes, can I wipe you down and make you presentable? If you do go with him, you must look powerful in front of them.”

Devasena kissed her forehead. “Oh, what have I done to have a sister like you?” Devika had tears in her eyes. “Sister?” she whispered. “Sister.” She confirmed.

 

\----------------- 

 

Kattappa put her wrists in chains and locked the handcuffs. He smiled at her. “Ready, Princess?”

“Yes, father.” She smiled back. “Lead the way.”

The guards lifted the palanquin and they marched to the palace.

 

Kattappa strode in to the court. “Presenting, Princess Devasena.” The palanquin was placed on the floor, and Devika helped her out. Devasena clutched onto the staff of steel as she painstakingly walked to the durbar. Facing her mother in law, she sneered.

Sivagami waited, protocol dictating that the subject address her before she address them. Devasena stood there, disdain writ over her face, her stance casual, her hair in a tousled bun, saree drawn tight against her now-empty stomach- the demeanor of an enemy with nothing to lose.

Bhallaladeva coughed from the throne. She did not turn to him, did not give him the dignity of a glance. She continued to stare unabashedly at Sivagami, enjoying her apparent discomfort even as the court started buzzing with the murmurs of the assembly. As a minute ticked by, Sivagami’s frown deepened into a harsher look of restrained anger, and the court dropped into unearthly silence.

“So, Rajamatha”, she began, disrespect dripping liberally from her voice. “Pray tell me, where are my husband and my child?”

“That is not a very polite tone to take.” Observed Bijjaladeva from his corner.

Staring straight at Sivagami, Devasena remarked, “I, as a citizen of your great country, wake up three days after labour to find my family missing, and a summons to your honorable court. I logically assumed that you might know, Rajamatha.”

Sivagami Devi waved her hand at the guards waiting. They brought forth a bundle of cloth, with wispy curls peeking out the top of the lump of fabric. Devasena’s heart stuttered, but she wouldn’t ask for her child.

“This is your son. Safe and sound.” Sivagami spoke for the first time in the terse ten minutes.

“Duly noted.” She responded, making no move towards the child. Kattappa shook his head, wordlessly berating her for not thanking the queen. “And what of my husband?”

It was Bhallaladeva who spoke this time. “On the run, like a coward.”

“If it pleases the court, may I learn what he is alleged to have done, to earn that moniker- ‘coward’?” she seethed, staring at her mother-in-law.

Bhalla said, “He plotted my death! He had _your_ cousin, Kumaravarma infiltrate the palace by the secret paths and take a knife to me. He did not even have the courage to face me, that spineless coward.” The hall erupted in angry shouts, as men fought over the missing prince’s integrity. “Coward is the most charitable of these monikers, as you put it, woman. You can have your pick of traitor, murderer, bas-“

Devasena’s raised palm stopped his sentence. “King Vikramadeva would think very poorly of his nephew, would he not, if you were to complete that sentence.” The words were spoken conversationally, as if they were discussing rain patterns.

Sivagami said, “He is on the run, and you were put under surveillance until you awoke. Your child shall not be punished for his father’s crimes. Being of the royal family, we shall raise him.”

Devasena lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Raise him, as well as you have raised that man?” she pointed at Bhalla, not looking at him. “Raise him to plot murder and raise him to be jealous and raise him to be amoral? Raise him to be an animal that would kill its brother to eat his share of the prey?”

Bhalla snarled and stood up. “You are in chains, and you dare slander my name? Conspirator!” he spat at her feet.

Devasena turned to face the ministers. “Which of you oversaw my husband's trial? Which of you co-signed the manhunt order?” she demanded. The confused silence and the dawning realization on their faces was answer enough. Turning back to the thrones, she asked wryly, “I demand for my trial and my husband’s trial to be conducted now.”

Kattappa’s stoic face concealed the delight inside. She was maneuvering perfectly, only a person with a mind for justice and a flair for drama could carry it off so well.

The court scrambled to make way for the scribe, who rushed in with his ink and quill, and three ministers swore themselves in as witnesses. Devika stood witness for the fairness of a woman’s trial, and with four legal witnesses, the proceedings commenced.

Accusations crumbled in the face of Devasena’s integrity, allegations melting away in the fire of her truth. Bhallaladeva was sweating visibly, as was Bijjaladeva. Sivagami Devi was letting confusion show on her face, and Devasena stood proud and tall, countering every question asked with crystal truth and raining questions back on the accusers like arrows.

In a matter of minutes, the court realized the injustice that had happened. Devasena demanded, “I request a verdict.”

Sivagami, shame-faced, chewed out, “The accused are at no fault. They will be reinstated to their homes, without loss of reputation nor prejudice. Their child will be returned to them. Spread the word that Amarendra Baahubali is innocent, and anyone who sees him shall encourage him to return with no punishment.” Devasena’s chains were dropped.

She was not done. “And what about my brother?”

Sivagami clutched her saree tighter. “Kumaravarma was unjustly killed. Those who organized his death shall be tried in this court.”

Devasena’s moment of glory had come. “I suspect Bijjaladeva and Bhallaladeva of murdering Kumaravarma.”

The men froze, anger rising in their bodies. Bijjaladeva lashed out. “You have no proof, woman! You dare accuse me and my son of a killing? You have gone mad!”

Kattappa stepped up to the dais. Standing between the throne and Devasena, he addressed Sivagami. “I stand here as eye-witness. I request permission to speak.”

“Granted.” Sivagami leaned forward, eyes wide.

He narrated his orders, the suspicions he had had. He did not speak of going to meet Amarendra, instead narrating conversations with his guards to prove Bhalla had indeed ordered for Kumaravarma to be killed. On his gesture, four of the guardsmen stepped up to his side, nodding in agreement and supporting his words.

Bijjaladeva shouted, “How do I know that this dog hasn’t blackmailed these men into agreeing with his story?”

Devasena broke in. “We trust they speak the truth under oath. Should you really be speaking when the trial is for you?” One of the guards sniggered.

“You talk to my father that way, bitch?” said Bhallaladeva.

The limit of her patience broke. Unsheathing her sword, she raised it to his throat and matched eyes with him. “You killed my brother. An innocent soul is on your hands. You have no right to even look at me.”

He snarled, anger fogging everything else. His vision was enveloped by Devasena, and her attack on him. “Yes, I did! That idiot had it coming! I won’t deny it!” Bijjaladeva had started to shush him, but the court erupted into an uproar that no one could stop.

“And what’s more, I wish he had taken your bundle of evil with him!” She had started to back down but his words destroyed what small mercy she might have had.

“I curse you, Bhallaladeva. You might not die now, but your son will, and his son after that. No one in your lineage will outlive you. With you, your evil will die, and no son of yours will have a chance to take your wickedness forward.” Devasena turned to Sivagami, waiting for the verdict.

 

 

As father and son were clapped in irons and marched to jail, Kattappa stayed back, whispering in Sivagami’s ear. Judging by the sudden hope that lit up her face, Devasena smiled at the imminent arrival of her husband.

Amarendra Baahubali walked into the court, and bowed to Sivagami Devi before hugging Devasena. “My love, I hope you forgive me for this.” He whispered.

“I would never dream of being angry with you.” She stroked his face. Kattappa cleared his throat and they turned to the dais.

Sivagami Devi was standing up, her grandson in her arms. “I believe the child is to meet his parents.”

Devasena stumbled to the nearest chair, vacated quickly by a minister, and sat down heavily, eyes closed, arms outstretched. She felt the warmth of her son’s back in her hands, his reassuring weight, the cloyingly sweet scent of a newborn, and his small hands thrashing about, hitting her breast. Opening her eyes, she gazed down at the most perfect child in Mahishmathi. “Mahendra Baahubali”, she smiled. Amarendra leaned over her shoulder and stroked his feet. “Perfect, isn’t he?”

Amarendra nodded. "One correction. Mahendra Shivudu Baahubali. Shivudu the child we swapped, who now sleeps comfortably in his mother's arms. They were willing to sacrifice their baby's lives so that we may live, and we must honor them. This is but a meager token." He smiled at Kattappa.

She looked up to the dais. Sivagami Devi was sitting primly on her throne, a picture of loneliness. Devasena nodded to her husband. He took her by the hand and they made their way to the dais. “Meet your grandson.”

Sivagami looked up worriedly at her daughter-in-law.

“All is forgiven. You were deceived temporarily, but that is no matter. Now, your grandchild?” Devasena’s grace shone through, warming Sivagami’s heart.

Kattappa chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, I took him up first. The boy will see a thousand moons and live in glory.”

Sivagami shook her head. “Don’t wish for glory. Wish for happiness. Isn’t that right, oh King?” she addressed Baahu, face filled with hope. "Now let me have my grandson, and retire from these dastardly court businesses. You two can take over, and I will play with my baby." She tickled the feet of the child now awake, whose laugh filled the court with joy.

 

\----------------- 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SkandaPurana tells of Skanda born to Shiva and Parvati. Their combined energy in a ball of fire was stolen by Indira, who was cursed by Parvati. The child had taken birth from the six Kritikas(Mothers) and not Parvati, who was busy chasing down the thief Indira. Nonetheless, the Goddess had accepted him as her own child, setting an example of being a great mother.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skandamata the wiki is more detailed.
> 
> Next chapter is a sequel to this and will be published tomorrow.
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	7. Sixth, Katyayini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for descriptions of war-like violence.   
> Direct sequel to Chapter 6, Skandamata- read that and then this one.

King Amarendra Baahubali commenced court. The day before, he had been coronated as King, Devasena as Queen by the Rajamatha Sivagami Devi. She had then relinquished all her governing responsibilities, and the mantle was on their shoulders now.

Sitting on the high throne, attired in full regalia, with the crown glittering atop his head as Devasena sat sedately at his side, back straight and eyes sharp. Sivagami sat far away on the terrace, bouncing Mahendra on her lap.

“Bring them forward.” He said.

General Prabhu led forth Bijjaladeva and Bhallaladeva, clad in iron chains. They had been jailed for a little more than a week, and their unkempt appearance added a visual element to their internal amorality that was by now public knowledge. The General read out the crimes and briefly summarized the evidence. The court turned to Baahubali, waiting for the punishment to be announced.

He in turn, gestured to Queen Devasena. She caught his eye and a conversation of shared glances determined that she would deliver the punishment.

“How do you plead?” the question, although a formality by this point, was still asked.

“Guilty” they spoke. Bijjaladeva was pathetically scared, but Bhalla stood there looking bored. She knew it was to get a rise out of her and deliberately smiled at him.

“The law is to take your lives the same way you took his with the consent of his kin. As his last living relative in Mahishmathi, I agree to those terms. Now, Bijjaladeva, describe how you were involved, by your own words.” After letting him speak, she announced, “For the crime of instigating and plotting the murder, you will be executed by beheading. The General will do that in the privacy of the execution chamber, not soiling the floors of this court.” Prabhu nodded his obedience. She waved a hand and the soldiers marched Bijjaladeva back to his cell.

“When will that be?” asked Amarendra.

“Prabhu will do that anytime within the next month. Bijjaladeva will wake everyday wondering if that were his last day on earth.” Chills ran down his spine at her words.

 

 

She beckoned to Bhallaladeva to step up. He sauntered up, deliberately slowly, ensuring the attention of every person was on him. He looked bored and his eyes roved over the thrones, the curtains, the pillars- everywhere but them. It was disrespect of the cheaper sort but Devasena had been prepared for it all from Mahishmathi’s son since the minute they had taken decisions about her future without her consent.

“Describe your involvement in the murder of Kumaravarma.” She stated in clipped tones.

“Is your memory so terrible you forgot the crimes read out by your General less than ten minutes ago?” he lifted an eyebrow at her. Amarendra drew in a sharp breath, but Devasena smiled and leaned forward.

“Not as terrible as your wit, dulled by only a week in prison. Now, your involvement.”

“Wanted to have that _virtuous son_ killed, so I tricked that fool Kumaravarma, inspired him to kill me, and in turn killed him.” He shrugged unbothered.

Devasena had been lost in grief the first week after his death, angry and helpless, regretting that he had not had a better life. All her heated fury had coalesced into a white cold icicle of power, and Bhalla’s flippant attitude did not even poke at her inner glacier of anger.

“Punishment on par with that crime- hmmm” she leaned back thoughtfully, watching him affect an air of apathy. As the minutes ticked past, Amarendra shot her a look and she ended the game. “Well, then Bhallaladeva, how does this sound- I send my best soldiers after you in the dungeons, you outrun them and if you’re alive by daybreak, you can kill yourself with the least pain, or if they catch you- well, they can have their vengeance on you for the atrocities you committed on their brothers?”

The guards standing around the thrones stepped forward, hungry looks on their faces; a few had drawn their swords out in anticipation. Not one of them seemed pitying and their collective wrath struck the first note of fear in Bhalla’s heart. He looked back frightened at Devasena.

“That isn’t the law!” his voice though higher, was still even.

“No, of course not, what was I thinking? The law prescribes the punishment for taking an innocent life by deceit and trickery as- to stab you with jagged, half-rusted knives while hot rods draw the victim’s name on your naked back and starve you for two days, then hang you in the public square, and to have your last rites performed by an unqualified stranger. Is that preferable to you than being hunted down?”

Amarendra couldn’t bear to watch his wife inflict the worst punishment onto his brother in her crazed bloodlust. He chanced a glance at her and found madness twisting her mouth into a misshapen smile, her eyes blazing and hands clasping at the armrests of the throne- the very picture of a despot gone mad with power.

He voiced, lowly so that only she could hear- “Mercy?”

She turned to him, eyes fierce and mouth lifted in scorn. “Mercy! Mercy you ask - for that _murderer_. Did he show mercy when he killed Kumaravarma? Did he spare him pain? Did he let him say goodbye to his family? Did Kumaravarma get to see my child, the baby he was going to treasure and love? Did he say his goodbyes to me?!” she screamed, leaping out of the throne. Walking down the steps, she centred on Bhalla, whose fear was now obvious, nonchalant persona vanishing.

“Bhallaladeva! You asked for the law, so you will get it. You won’t pick my challenge because you _know_ you will lose against these men. These trained soldiers, who you defiled as assassins against that innocent lamb. You fear them as you fear me. As Kumaravarma feared you. Yet you ask for the law, and the law thus you will receive.”

She drew the dagger at her hip, the one Jayavarma had gifted her when she was eight years old with the orders, “only in the direst of circumstances” and she held a knife to his throat for the second time in a week.

She whispered, the quiet words echoing around the hall, “For Kumaravarma, a man who did you no harm, whom you had unjustly murdered, I lay my knife in you Bhallaladeva to avenge his ghost.”

She plunged the dagger in, two calculated inches above his heart. "May the evil in your body leave by the blood that flows out of you.” Her killing shots were also her kindest blessings.

Kattappa intervened, raising his hand. “Devasena, oh princess, please listen. Is this not too violent?”

“Remember Rajamatha Sivagami Devi’s words! The law is supreme. Do you find fault with Mahishmathi’s law?” she thundered.

Kattappa bowed, and shook his head. “This is not punishment, Devasena. It is much much more.”

 

She half-turned from climbing the steps to the throne and gazed long at Kattappa’s bowed form.

She turned fully to face Bhalla whose face was twisting in agony as he clapped one hand over his bleeding chest.

“Kattappa, this is not punishment. This is _annihilation_.” said Devasena.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katyayini is Mahisha-asura-mardhini, the goddess empowered to slay the demon Mahisha. He knows she comes to kill him but her beauty mesmerises him and he asks to marry her, and she challenges him to win her in a fight, and she beheads him. 
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	8. Seventh, Kala-ratri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon with imagines in between. Devasena's PoV of the latter part of BB2:tC.  
> Not a sequel to the preceding chapters.

Her first thought upon seeing her rescuer was, ’Amarendra!’

His profile illuminated in the flashing bouts of moonlight, the untamed curls that bounced on his temple, the half-smile that sat permanently under his seriousness as he fought to take her away, she saw Amarendra.

In the courage that was born of an innate fearlessness rather than a choice to abandon fear, the unbridled hope that showed in his face, the clinging remnants of innocence in the man who had not yet turned twenty six- she saw Amarendra.

It was when he fought the soldiers that Devasena shook with the sudden realisation that this was not Amarendra. She knew her husband’s fighting style as well as though it were her own. This man was not he. This man had not been trained to fight, he had been trained as a civilian learning nothing more advanced than self-defense.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as though it had suddenly turned to lead. Devasena fought to contain the crushed hope that tore screaming through her body. Blinking back the heat rising behind her eyes, and swallowing to force down the tightening of her throat, she drew deep breaths to fuel her energy. Escaping was their priority. He was her rescuer, and she would be grateful to flee her captivity, and she would _not_ waste her time thinking of the best friend who had abandoned her twenty five years ago.

 

 -----------------------

 

Kattappa bowed his head under the man’s raised foot, as he had done when that man was a newborn infant. He let his submission flow over him and give him purpose. Sangha called out, “Shivudu!” and Devasena had to bite her lip to contain the resurgence of insistent hope that mushroomed through her heart. Digging her nails deeper into her fists, she focused on the present.

‘Kill Bhallaladeva, make Mahendra king.’ She repeated the five-word mantra she had chanted for two and a half decades.

 

 

\-----------------------

 

Sangha drew Devasena into the hut after she was bathed, and carefully tugged out the only silk saree she owned- her wedding gift from her own parents. Offering it to the woman who had given birth to the son she had raised, she smiled tentatively. “My queen, these tatters do not befit you. March to your throne in these silks.”

Devasena’s eyes widened. She could see the elephant and lotus motif on the border of spun gold. Running her fingers over it, she asked, “Are you from-“

“Anupa, yes! Only a girl from Kuntala could recognise the emblem of Anupa twenty years after it was replaced - by the motif of the hunting wolves.” Sangha’s eyes were teary with the blossoming happiness of meeting a friend from the motherland. “Kuntala and Anupa are still as close as ever. I think it was by divine design that the son of Kuntala was raised by a woman from Anupa, married and sent here to safeguard him from the ravagers of Mahishmathi.”

Devasena leaned against the wall of the hut, drawing shaky breaths. She had missed so much in the world, she had missed witnessing the changes of her city, the changes in Mahishmathi, the festivals and the daily petty issues of fighting over fences, the weddings that had taken place, the babies born and raised. She had not known anything beyond the change of the seasons and the way the iron bars of her cell had turned from grey to orange, as if they had drunk from the colours of the saree that draped over her fragile body and inflicted their melancholy colors on her without any of the strength that came with it.

As she had turned steadily grey, her knees sometimes shook with the exertion of standing, and when no one was looking, she would curl up in the coolest nook of the pit, letting her body have its moments of pain. She would let her fingers tremble and her back pull and cramp, and her head pound itself to no useful end, while distancing herself mentally and detachedly observing the hold that her body had over her. Sometimes when the ache became too much, she rested her willpower and gave in- reminiscing the grassy fields of her home, the cool breeze of the mountains, the wet fragrance of newly awakening Spring flowers and letting the memories deceive her into forgetting the pain wracking her body.

Five and twenty years had crossed, and with it, the childhood of the son. She would hear about his first words from Sangha, and his first toddling steps, whether he slept fitfully as a baby, whether he had liked to play in the sand or the water, whether he liked Krishna better or Arjuna. In the cage where she had done her penance, she had allowed herself to wonder about him only twice- once when Kattappa came to inform her that Sivagami’s body had not been found, and once when Indira had visited her in the dark clutches of night, asking her with tears in her eyes to bless her newborn.

_Devasena had closed her eyes and shaken her head trying not to drown in sorrow. “Indira, I am not his aunt, do not ask me to do this, I beg of you!”_

_“No, Devasena, you must! I wish circumstances were different, but…” Her voice was stricken with the grief of one who knew their greed and selfishness dominated their actions but were loath to act differently. “You are the only living family of my husband’s brother.”_

_“I am not alone. My son lives!” Devasena gripped the bars so hard they rattled, the sound cracking the stillness of the night._

_Indira pursed her lips, tears streaking across her cheeks. “Devasena, I hope so too.”_

_“No, he lives! I can feel it.” Her maniacal expression encouraged Indira to agree._

_“Yes, he lives. Now, think of my son! With that kind of father and grandfather, and with only a few years until Bhalla has me killed- I will outlive my usefulness to him in less than a decade – my child needs someone’s blessing! Please!” the broken sobs of the two women filled the desolate space. Indira put her hand through the bars, grasping her sister’s frail wrists. The captive kissed it._

_“Bhadra, you will live well.” Indira’s heart dropped. Devasena had not blessed him with happiness, or a long life. The implication was clear. If Devasena ever was freed, she would not hesitate to kill Bhalla and any evil he had grown, and that included the toxic poison that would be his son; but for as long as he lived, Bhadra would live well. Indira nodded, wrapped the bundle of blankets tighter against her bosom and ran back to the palace under the cover of nightfall._

 

Sangha gently tapped her elbow. Devasena spun around, trying to gather her bearings. Blinking, she found solace in the kind eyes of the woman who raised Mahendra, even before her mind caught up with more information on the person standing in front of her. Sangha pushed the saree into her hands, drawing out the folds to drape it across her chest and over her shoulder.

Devasena grasped Sangha’s hands in hers, sobbing into her shoulder.

“I had – I had a fr- friend.” She stuttered out between tears. Sangha patted her kindly, letting the queen have a moment of catharsis from the debilitating trauma of the last three decades.

“She helped me birth Mahendra. She left the palace with us, she helped me to bring Mahendra into this world. Devika. Her name was Devika. Now, I have become Devaki, and you have become Yashoda. I birthed him and gave him up for his safety, and you have raised him a strong and brave man, just and kind, and I understand how Devaki must have felt in her prison. I did not know, Sangha, _I did not know_! I did not know if Mahendra was alive, if he was raised by someone, if he had been kidnapped by bandits, if, if – oh, so many evils could have befallen my son!”

Sangha shook her head. “Our son.” She corrected.

“ _You_ did everything I should have. _You_ did everything as if he was born to you. You are his mother, Sangha. I am not, you are.” Devasena pleaded, lost, without knowing what she was asking for.

Sangha embraced her. “He is a son to both of us, sister. I raised Shivudu and guarded him so that he would never leave our hamlet, but your heart tugged on his so much that he climbed a waterfall and crossed a mountain to find you, without knowing it was you he was searching for. Now you can raise him. Hold him close, tell him you waited for him, tell him how much you love him, teach him how to rule, teach him everything I could never know. Teach Shivudu to rule and fight and do everything a king should do.” The seriousness of the imminent battle had lent a deep sadness to Sangha’s demeanor.

Devasena nodded earnestly. “This is the last battle, Sangha. No more, none more. I have lost enough, now I must reclaim what I lost. I will kill Bhallaladeva and make Mahendra king.”

Sangha asked, “I don’t mean to offend you, but you must promise me Shivudu will be safe. I am not generous enough to give away my son to you now, not after he lived with me these decades. I need him safe and free, above all else.”

Devasena drew the sword that hung on the wall. Driving it into the floor, she lay Sangha’s open palm on the hilt and sealed it with her own hand. “I promise you upon my life that Mahendra will be king.”

“Not enough. I need his happiness guaranteed.” Sangha’s ferocity heightened the intensity of Devasena’s gratitude to her.

“I will serve him and do everything in my power to keep him joyful, peaceful and safe.”

Lifting their joined palms, Sangha kissed Devasena’s hand and returned to the camp.

 

\-----------------------

 

Devasena lifted the pot of fire and balanced it on her head. The damp melancholy that had permeated her during her captivity was slowly driven out by the fire that burned above. Clutching her staff tightly, Devasena took step after step, measured and even. She could not afford to go too fast to risk the pot falling, and not too slow because the heat from the pot could not be borne too long. Walking the fine line between warmth and burning, she concentrated her entire being on reaching the final step.

Bhallaladeva fell into the pile of wood she had painstakingly built for him for twenty five years. He pleaded not for mercy, but for her to join him there. She wanted to laugh. ‘I have promised to keep King Mahendra safe and happy. I have a new purpose. I must live.’ She thought to herself and placed both her feet on the final step.

Reaching up, she stretched her arms to carefully lift the pot that singed her fingertips with its little kisses of flames. Bhalla was on the ground, looking up at her with fear and expectation. Standing tall before him, she let the fire she had carried for twenty-six years leap down at her enemy.

 

\-----------------------

 

She stood before her people, the sun washing over her tired body. Mahendra sat on the throne a little behind her. Avantika stood by his side. Devasena glanced out of the corner of her eye. The Yashoda to her Devaki was watching their son with a glowing face, happiness radiating out of her every atom.

As Mahendra took his oath, her thoughts were elsewhere.

_‘Amarendra, we could have had this. You could have been king, with me by your side, with your mother standing guard over us as Kattappa supported us through our lives. We could have been happy, and grown old together. We could have had another child, a daughter this time, and raised Mahendra and her, experiencing joy and pride and elating in their successes.’_

Time had done nothing to soften her grief. Decades had passed, and decades would pass, and though they would be tempered with sweetness and warmth, she would carry the weight of her what-if with her, through every moment of every night and day.

She knew, as truly as she knew the sun rose in the east, that Amarendra was her soulmate, the one person who was her perfect foil, who would have been everything that she needed. He was hers, and she was his. And now she had only the memory of them to tide her through.

Devasena was a natural-born queen. And queens were resilient. She would move ahead, give Mahendra the future she was denied, give Avantika the peace she had never known, give them the space to grow and learn, while a space in her own heart would forever ache in the emptiness of her husband’s absence. Devasena would go on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The Saudhikagama, an ancient Tantric text, describes Goddess Kalaratri as being the goddess that rules the night portion of every day and night.   
> 2\. Kaalratri is also known as Shubankari (शुभंकरी) - meaning auspicious/doing good in Sanskrit, due to the belief that she always provides auspicious results to her devotees.   
> 3\. Warrior.   
>  Ashwattama, a warrior on the Kaurava side, whose father, Drona, had been tricked into surrender by the Pandavas, was determined to avenge his father's death. In the stealth of the night, against the rules of war, Ashwattama creeps into the Kuru camp that is now occupied by followers of the victorious Pandavas. Infused by the power of Shiva, he attacks and kills these followers. At the height of his frenzied attack, Goddess Kaalratri appears.  
> “.....in her embodied form, a black image, of bloody mouth and bloody eyes, wearing crimson garlands and smeared with crimson unguents, attired in a single piece of red cloth, with a noose in hand, and resembling an elderly lady, employed in chanting a dismal note and standing full before their eyes."  
> This reference in the Mahabharata appropriately depicts Goddess Kaalratri as representing and personifying the horrors of war, laying its unpleasantness bare.
> 
> 4\. Kaalratri can also mean the one who is the death of time.
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	9. Eighth, Mahagauri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-compliant imagines.

The sun beat down on her back, stealthily erasing all evidence of the harsh rains of the previous night. She drew her pallu over her eyes, covering herself from the mercilessly hot rays. It was of no avail, the threads were thinning apart, and it was more tattered than whole. Sighing, she huddled down, seeking shade in the cooled mud around her cage.  _'A caged swan'_ , Bhallaladeva taunted her often. Today would be another visit, she knew from the way the guards changed every few hours and from the way the cleaners had been sweeping the steps around her prison. As the sun climbed overhead, touching noon, the heat became unbearable. As planned, Bhallaladeva arrived with his entourage of servants shielding him with two massive umbrellas, two maidens fanning him with fans made of fine horse hair.

"The swan withers", he smirked from above. She did not turn to face him, remaining with her back to him. A harsh intake of breath gave her the satisfaction of knowing that her disrespect was acknowledged. He knew better than to wait in hopes of her speaking to him. She had given him the silent treatment on many of his visits, and Bijjaladeva had stopped visiting her after the first time she refused to acknowledge him. Bhallaladeva though was a different man. He liked to see that his victim was not only in distress, but also that he could frequently verify for himself their discomfort and delight in it. Devasena wanted to sob whenever she reflected on his nature. How could one mother raise a treasure, and this serpent? 

"Will the swan die in its cage, do you think?" he casually asked his guard. The man did not respond. He did not need to, most of Bhallaladeva's questions with regard to Devasena were rhetorical. "I would prefer it. Save us the trouble of a burial or a pyre. Pile on the sand and let the body die. Already your soul is dead, isn't it, swan?" Devasena kept her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her. The sound of a pillow being placed on the ground was audible behind her.  _'Oh, so you've decided to make a picnic of it today'_ , she thought glumly. She vastly preferred solitude to his derisive company. 

"The soul is dead, and it walks around waiting for death. Isn't that right,  _hamsa_?" He asked, and Devasena's breath caught in her throat. She didn't dare to breathe. The nickname, a piece of her birth name, a secret known only to Jayavarma, and used only by her husband when they were alone- and now her demon knew it.

"I know what you're thinking. 'How does he know?!'. Isn't that right, swan?" He had apparently ordered his guard to do it, because she felt a stick prodding at her back, poking painfully and clumsily. "Turn around and I'll tell you." he said. She heaved a sigh and turned to face him. Affecting an air of boredom, she stretched her feet out, bare ankles pointed at him and began to clean the grime from her nails. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see him becoming angry.  _'Good, lose your cool and storm away'_ , she thought.

"I know everything, swan, even your most private secrets." he murmured. She could feel the heat of his inquisitive stare boring into her. Bhallaladeva nodded at his maiden, and she walked forth to place a pot of water in front of her cage door. "Drink, or wash, or whatever you need water for. Never let it be said that Bhallaladeva is an unkind ruler!" he laughed. Before standing from her crouch, the maiden brought her palms together in a hasty apology and walked back to his side.

Devasena waited for him to reveal how he knew her secret name. He watched her, waiting to see if she would use the water or not. "It's not poisoned." he offered by way of explanation. "Don't you need water to live?" his annoyance was slowly surfacing.

"Varuna Bhagawan gives me enough." she remarked nonchalantly, still examining her nails. 

"And I suppose Krishna Bhagawan gives you clothes when yours tear." his voice held a note of challenge, and to her misfortune, Devasena never backed down from a challenge. She eyed him silently, drawing her pallu over her shoulder and tucking it into her waist. 

He leaped up, storming to her cage. Devasena did not break eye contact, daring him silently to do what he could to her. He stood atop the cage and kicked the pot over, wetting her clothes. Kneeling, he smirked at her. "Everything you need is delivered to you by your Gods, aren't they,  _hamsa_? Well then, where is your husband when you need him? Where is the demon you birthed? Where are they, when you lie in a pit, abused and soiled, hungry and aching? Where are they? Dead! Dead and gone, and no one to mourn them! You keep imagining they are alive, but they aren't! Understand, foolish woman, that you are all alone!" He screamed at her.

She had promised herself she would not rise to his taunts today. She had spoken to herself, telling her mind not to respond to him, not to react to anything he would say. Forgetting all her preparation, she rose up in anger. “Mahendra lives”, she seethed.

“What, that infant?! Died, along with the _Rajamatha_!” he spat out. “Every one of your family is gone, Devasena. Not even that moron Kumaravarma is alive. Jayavarma and his wife have abdicated and gone missing. Everyone fears me, fears my power.”

“Ill-gotten power never lasts.” She said grimly.

“It’s lasted more than a decade, and it will last decades to come. Why, I might even live a century! How would you like that, _hamsa_?”

“Devasena. Not _hamsa_.” She corrected.

“Oh, that’s not what his love letters to you say.” He taunted.

Her heart stuttered. Clutching the bars atop her cage, she searched his eyes. “You read his … you read my… “ she could not finish the sentences.

“Oh, yes! I was having the harem moved into those quarters, and they cleaned out the place. Most of it they burnt, but this they told me.” He smiled viciously at her and Devasena wanted to kill him. Those were private, those were between her husband and her. Nothing was sacred anymore, not even his words to her, nor her mind laid bare on the scrolls. They had written frequently, whenever Amarendra was away on royal business, which was often. And to think that their nest, the home she had created within those unforgiving walls was now housing his harem of courtesans- she held herself upright only by holding onto the bars.

He affected a higher-pitch and said, “Oh, Baahu, if only you could feel it! I am sick always, I crave food at all hours of the night, and my body aches with the weight of our child- but I would not trade it for anything, my _darling_!” he drawled. “It’s everything I can do to not leap onto a horse and join you in Anupa; come back soon. Your wife and child await you, oh Commander.” Dropping his voice to his usual tenor, he asked, “And now the wife awaits still, there is no child, and the commander is long dead. Terrible pity, really.”

Devasena spat in his face. “The child lives.”

He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. Standing up, he returned to his entourage. “Give the delusioned madwoman food once a day for a month. Maybe the hunger will put her brain right.”

 

 -------------------------------------

 

The shouts of ‘Baahubali!’ that went around the crowd at the unveiling of the statue served to infuriate Bhallaladeva and inspire hope in Devasena. A few hours later, she could see his wing of the palace go up in flames, and a stranger dashing out. If she did not trust Kattappa’s grief, she would have believed it was her husband come to rescue her. She stared and stared at this man, whose face and hair and frame was so like her husband, and in a flash of instinct, clapped her hand to her mouth before she could scream. He placed her in the chariot and rode like the wind.

She let Kattappa tell the story, choosing instead to watch her son. He was so much like Baahu, the move of his shoulders, the even stance of his feet, the thick neck and the feisty curls above. His voice was also reminiscent of his father, and if she closed her eyes, Devasena could almost feel him beside her, watching over their son.

 

 -------------------------------------

 

She ended him. The grief he had caused their family, the vile words he had said, the disrespect he had given to her husband- she ended all of it. Even his statue was beheaded, and as the head rolled disgracefully over the dam and onto the waterfall, Devasena felt a wave of relief wash over her. The tension lifted off her shoulders, her misery rolled off of her, she felt as though she was birthed anew.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Goddess Parvati performed an austere penance as advised by Sage Narad so that she might beget Lord Shiva as her husband. She renounced all the comforts of the palace and started performing penance in the forest for many years. She braved heat and cold, rains and drought and terrible storms. Her body was covered with dust, earth, soil and leaves of trees. She had developed a blackish skin over her body. At last, Lord Shiva appeared before her and gave his solemn word that he would marry her. He bathed her vigorously by the holy waters of the Ganga emanating from his matted hair. The holy and sacred waters of Ganga washed off all the dirt clinging to Parvati’s person and she became white-complexioned and glorious. She was called Mahagauri.'
> 
> Do you want to leave me a comment? :)


	10. Ninth, Siddhidatri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Devasena bridges the gaps, and helps Mahishmathi's future strengthen and move on.

Mahendra readied to hold his first court. He walked forward to bow to his mothers before stepping into the durbar. As he rose from his position, he had to stifle a smile. Avantika had rushed to his side and mirrored his gesture. Her tentative smile to Devasena and Sangha was engulfed by their embrace.

“Soon you will be Queen too, Princess Avantika”, said Devasena gently. Sangha and she had become sisters in arms, often spending long evenings by the burning logs, leaning against each other as Sangha recounted Mahendra’s childhood.

Devasena’s mornings were dedicated to exercising in the gardens as physicians helped her regain her dormant strength. The battle and the fire walk had been fueled by adrenaline and her willpower, doubled in force by her need for vengeance, and after her goal was achieved, she had collapsed on the ground, weak and unmoving. Mahendra had gathered her up in his arms and rushed her to the apothecary. Her last thought before she fainted in exhaustion was that this was the first time since she gave him up twenty five years ago, that they held each other again.

In the weeks to come, as her body screamed in pain, she learned to drown out the cacophony of her straining muscles in the soft voice of Sangha’s narration. She learned that Mahendra had been a mischievous child, a lanky clumsy teenager, a child that learned to run stumblingly before he could walk stably, a boy so kind he would carry the shivalingam to the waterfall so his mother would not need to carry water to it. Sangha told it all so well that she occasionally forgot she was only listening and had not actually been there watching it happen. Only in the dead of the night, when she was alone, did she allow herself to feel the tiniest tug of envy. By the first rays of the sun, she had buried it again, greeting Mahendra and Sangha with an open smile.

Mahendra’s behavior with her was still guarded, hesitant. He watched her carefully, rushing to support her when her legs trembled, and sitting across from her at dinner. He saw her as the queen she was, not as the mother who had to abandon him to save his life. She yearned for him to sit by her side, a casual joke to be made, an easy intimacy- all the things that Sangha had with their son. She would not grudge her this, for she had earned it all. Devasena had years of a relationship to make up for. After two months of Mahendra stepping on eggshells around her, both of them obviously wanting to be physically affectionate and emotionally honest with each other but unable to approach it, she took matters into her own hands.

Sangha had told her about the adolescent that Mahendra had been. She saw him as a ruler everyday in his behavior to his ministers and his subjects. The only thing she had not seen was his emotional side. If she could understand that, she would know how to get into his heart.  

By sundown, she had sent an invitation for dinner to Avantika.  

The girl had grown up worshipping her. Even though it had been two months of living in the same house, Avantika still bowed to her every time she saw her, still waited for Devasena to dismiss her before she left the room. Avantika stuttered sometimes; It was a nervous stammer, brought on when she asked her any personal questions. Devasena wanted to make Avantika comfortable with her, to treat her as a mother and not her childhood hero. 

 

 

As the servants laid out the vessels, Avantika’s arrival was announced by the guards. Devasena stood up to receive her, welcoming her with open arms and an inquisitive eye. She was attired simply, while Avantika had dressed up for a formal meeting.

“Welcome, child. Sit here, by me.” They sat on the floor, banana leaf bowls in front of them. Avantika surveyed the three vessels of food, surprised that her first feast with her hero was such a simple affair- rice, a vegetable gravy, and milk pudding. She looked back at Devasena in surprise.

“Shall we eat?” Devasena asked her and scooped up rice into Avantika’s bowl. “Are you wondering why we are not eating twelve dishes and three desserts on silver plates, child?” Devasena asked. Avantika nodded reluctantly.

“We’re both just girls from the mountains shamming at being prim and proper queens. We both know the real joy isn’t in verbally eviscerating foolish ministers, it lies in your arrow hitting a running target in a herd. Isn’t that right?” Avantika relaxed a little, straight back hunching a little and legs loosening from the impressive  _padmasana_  pose she had put on to impress her mother in law.

She took a bite and continued. “I was brought to Mahishmathi for the first time from Kuntala in chains.” Avantika stopped eating and stared at her.

“My mother in law and I argued terribly, and it was Mahendra’s father who pulled his sword out in open court to prevent me from being married off to Bhallaladeva.” Avantika’s shock manifested itself in an untimely gurgle and the embarrassment of such an ungainly sound resulted in giggles. The twenty-year old lass went beet red, eyes trained on the floor, unable to stop her body from giggling.

Devasena giggled along, joining in until the embarrassment was replaced by actual amusement at the impossible.  _‘So your response to sudden surprises, is to laugh?’_ thought Devasena.  _‘How different we are. I wonder how you would have gotten along with the mother in law I had._ ’

“After such a long courtship, I had to marry Amarendra and no one else, you understand. I knew very long ago that he was mine. Our courtship was… merely a ritual.” She balanced the bowl on her lap and gestured with her free hand. Devasena ran her thumb over her ring finger, reminiscing the stunning rings Amarendra had adorned her fingers with, one for each month of their life together. “How did you know with Mahendra?” she asked nonchalantly.

Avantika froze again, trying not to squirm.  _‘Don’t embarrass yourself further!’_  she shouted to herself. “He… he found me. My mask, rather. That I dropped.”  Devasena nodded, encouraging her to continue. “Then he came in search of me, and found us, and found me, and I think I knew then that I had found him.” She searched Devasena’s eyes, begging her to understand. “I am not saying it very well, pardon me Rajamatha, but it’s how it happened. He drew a tattoo on me, the other half on his hand, two halves of a whole. We are whole together, Rajamatha.”

Devasena smiled down at her own plate. “Speaking as his mother, I am elated, child. So, a more fitting address would be-“ she questioned Avantika.

Avantika blinked. “I don't think it's appropr-“

“Do you want to marry my son or not?”

“I do!” she cried out, and scrambled to cover it. “Pardon, I did not mean to raise my voice, Rajamatha.”

“Rajamatha is for people who are not family.” Devasena prompted again.

“Thank you, Amma?” Avantika’s voice was hesitant.

“Here, have some more milk pudding.” Devasena smiled approvingly.

As they washed their hands, Avantika waited nervously for her to dismiss her. Devasena turned around, wiping her hands on the soft cotton cloths and perused her daughter in law. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in those jute silks?” she asked politely.

“I thought it might be fitting for our dinner.” Avantika’s voice was still apologetic.

“Wouldn't you like to change into something softer?” Devasena walked to her chest of silks and rummaged to the very bottom. “Here, my first gift to you. It isn’t silk, but it’s sturdy cotton that will carry you through days when this luxurious royal life suffocates your senses, when you need to be who you really are.”

 

 

Giving her daughter in law privacy, Devasena walked to the balcony and had the guards arrange divans on the cool veranda. She closed her eyes, leaning back on the cushions and let the breeze soothe her soul. Nature had not been very accommodating in her captivity, and now that that cage had been destroyed, she luxuriated once more in the feeling of freedom. 

Before she fell into recalling the memories of being held prisoner, Avantika appeared in the doorway, her lithe form soft and graceful like a child’s, illuminated in the silver moonlight. Devasena patted the seat next to her and no sooner had Avantika sat down than she leaned forward, trying to drink in the aerial view of the peaceful city. Several minutes went by, the two women waiting for the silence to mellow and shape around them. 

Devasena murmured, “I have to say something. I spent those years as his prisoner, and all I thought of was Mahendra. I did not think about my brother or my Kuntala friends, did not dream that you would fight for me, keep watch over my life. What you did was very brave, very heroic." She laid a palm over the girl's. "You have my eternal thanks, Avantika.”  

Her eyes had widened to the size of saucers, hearing Devasena speak. Her hero, her goddess of twenty-five years, had just thanked her personally, and Avantika’s heart was soaring and breaking at the same time. She shook her head, tears threatening to flow from her eyes. She grasped Devasena’s hand in hers and held it to her heart. “This was my life’s purpose. To have you free and for you to rule us once more. I cannot hear you speak this way to me. It was… an injustice that we righted. I am sorry we did not do it sooner, Amma.”

Devasena’s face broke out in a slow smile, hearing the girl slip into calling her Amma without prompting. Her face turned serious again. “I cannot imagine how it was, to grow up as a soldier, being denied a childhood and playtime.”

Avantika dropped her hand, forehead wrinkling in thought. “It was a way of life. We marched and fought, and hid. The forests were our friends, but they were also our foes. As long as my brothers and sisters were with me, I could make my way through the forest unharmed, but as a single soldier, I would die.”

“What did you train in? In archery or in fighting?” interrupted Devasena.

“I idolized you, so of course I learnt archery!” she laughed. “I trained to be the very best, the strongest, so that no one could defeat me.”

“Did you ever…?”

Avantika sighed. “No, that secret was between you and his father alone. My friends described how you would shoot three arrows but they hadn’t seen the technique up close. No one could teach me that.” Her eyes were hopeful as she turned to Devasena.

“Of course. With sunrise.” She promised, answering the unasked question.

Avantika grinned giddily, and Devasena was reminded of just how innocent this warrior was. “I will teach the both of you. Can’t have your husband at a disadvantage, can we now?” she smiled.

“Of course! We will be there at sunrise.” Avantika had still not stopped smiling. “This time in clean clothes and after a bath.” Her nose wrinkled as she recollected her training. “In the forest, unless there were streams around, we used to stink like horse dung. And our teacher wouldn’t let us skip practice even if we were unwell. We fell in the mud, climbed trees until our palms and ankles were raw, and there were very few days when I was not covered in leaves and soil all over.”

“Even though you were an archer?” Devasena asked with her eyebrows raised.

“No! The wrestlers were in even worse shape, but we didn’t get away with not running and climbing every day. We had to learn everything. Could not afford to lose to the enemy because he knew something we didn’t.” her voice was serious, and Devasena’s heart broke, seeing this child that had known nothing but war. She listened quietly, letting her talk.

“I thought I was our best spy, until Shivudu came along. He had followed me for acres, and I had not seen him even once!” Her astonishment had not dimmed, even after months. “I was mostly dusty and caked in mud, but he still thought I was beautiful. I suppose he hadn’t seen many women!” she laughed.

Devasena shook her head. “Love isn’t based on looks, child, did you spend time admiring his form when you first saw him?”

“When I first saw him I wanted to slice his head off!” Avantika declared grimly. “It was his good luck that I didn’t! Creeping up on me like that, kidnapping me, and ruining my reputation!”

Devasena asked her a question with only a look. She hastened to explain, “No, as a spy! Ruined my reputation as a spy!” she blushed, reddened cheeks glowing golden under the light.

“But I would forgive him anything. Anything at all.” Her voice was soft. Devasena turned away to hide a smile, sparing her the mortification of confessing the extent of her love to her own mother-in-law.

A minute passed, and Avantika gasped. “I’ve been talking and talking, pardon, Amma. I got carried away.”

Devasena shook her head. “I like hearing you talk. Go on.”

“Well, there’s nothing else really. I love him, and if you permit, we will get married.” She said.

“Let me think it over.”

Avantika gasped, stood up and sat down again, looking bereft. Devasena chuckled, “No, you will, really. I was just playing with you.”

“Amma!” she cried out at being teased.

“What, an old lady can’t have some fun?”

“Never joke about separating us, Amma.” She scolded.

Devasena reflected on her success. She had turned the awestruck hero-worshipper into a vocally opinionated daughter-in-law. Avantika was playing with the hem of the saree. “Is this yours?” she asked Devasena.

“Yes, from a long long time ago.”

“Oh, like a story.”

“For another day.” Devasena shook her head. “Head off to bed. I cannot teach younglings who fall asleep on the grounds.”

“I can stay vigilant for three days and seventeen hours.” Avantika said proudly.

“The war is over, child.” Devasena’s voice was soft. “You don’t have to push yourself like that now. You can be normal, just another girl in love.”

Avantika went quiet. A moment later, she turned to her, eyes full of confusion. “I don’t know how to, Amma.” She whispered, this time letting the tears fall. “I’ve always lived with war. I’ve always lived with hunger. My war has ended now. My husband has never known war, except for that demon’s extinguishment. I… how will I live with him? What if I am too violent for him?” her fears were out in the open, and the air between them was taut with tension.

Devasena stroked her cheek. “For all that is glorious will one day end, but never love. You love him, child, you will overcome anything. Believe in yourself as I do in you. I wouldn’t give my son’s life to any ordinary soldier, nor a vacuous princess. You are anew, a flower blossoming after a long winter. Welcome your Spring.”

Kissing the top of her head, Devasena walked back to her room, letting her new daughter ruminate on her words.

 

 

\-----------------

 

 

Devasena woke before dawn, hobbling to the balcony to watch the sunrise. She had been denied the pleasure of the view for the last twenty five years, and she was determined to watch every sunrise and sunset for the next twenty six. The black horizon's border divided up into a deep dark blue, and slowly lightened up. As the hues of orange heralded the dawn of a new day, she saw Mahendra marching into the ground, stretching and flexing. She leaned over the balcony rails, supporting her chin in her hands. 

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, miming drawing arrows and lunging the last twenty yards. As the sun arose, he saluted the sun and the ground, laying his forehead on the ground.  _'Definitely something Sangha taught him'_ , thought Devasena. He picked up the quiver of arrows, meticulously counting them out twice. Devasena was enjoying this sight immensely, catching a glimpse of something so public yet so personal to him. Kattappa joined him on the ground, and their vaguely formal body language left her with a deep sense of nostalgia and melancholy. Shaking it off, she dressed and walked down the stairs to the archery grounds.

 

She had chosen the venue well. The targets were positioned far off enough that their arrows could be fired with a decent velocity, while the rising sun ensured it was adequate lighting without being too hot, or blinding them. As she walked in, Kattappa bowed to her and Mahendra touched her feet. Raising him by the shoulders, she smiled, looking into his eyes. His flustered and nervous smile dampened her joy a little. Turning to Kattappa, she ordered him to play-fight with Mahendra, just for the joy of seeing them oppose strengths. 

Kattappa carefully threw his punches, being wary of the untrained prince's inexperience. Mahendra though had an instinct for ducking and jumping and swerving, and he could play the game by instinct alone, at least on the defense. His offense was restricted to quick, light punches wherever he could reach at that moment. Kattappa sighed and stopped, and said, "Please learn it, Yuvaraja. You need to learn to fight properly. I will have the General arrange a good tutor for you."

Mahendra countered, "Alright! I don't want to injure you with my strength, it's just as well it be someone else!". Kattappa turned away to hide a smile. 

Avantika joined them, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Civilian life was growing on her, and she smiled at Devasena before she looked at the others in the party. Greetings went around and they finally settled in, bows adjusted to perfect holds, arrows gripped tight. After two rounds of hitting the bulls eye, Avantika turned to Devasena with an expectant look.

She laughed and nodded. "First give thanks to Amarendra Baahubali, who founded this technique. May his soul rest in peace." The company chanted after her and she started with Kattappa. "Manibandham, bahirmukham" she repeated until he could smoothly flex his fingers inward and outward and draw three arrows simultaneously. Moving on to Mahendra, she stood less than a foot away as he practiced the motion, focus entirely narrowed onto the feeling of the arrows in his hand, picking them out and putting them back in, and drawing them again.

“Raise your left elbow, a little more”, she instructed. “No, a little more. Straighter, Mahendra. Up!” she commanded. He turned to her and shook his head. “I only have rough lessons, Amma. You need to be patient with me.”

She stood by his side and gripped his elbow, raising it to the perfect height and using her right hand to correct the angle of his right shoulder against which he braced the arrow’s tail. Even though it lasted for five seconds, Devasena rejoiced in the feeling of holding her son. Judging by the grin that broke out on his face, she considered it was a mutual joy.

Avantika had it down pat on the first try, and all Devasena had to say was, “Warrior child, there is nothing you cannot do!” She left her blushing and smiling, and turned back to Kattappa. He drew his three arrows, and his face dropped into complete seriousness as he focused on the target. She stepped to his left and paused a moment before commanding, “Dwaja!” Of the three, one found its mark while the other two missed the target by a hair’s breadth, whizzing past the outline and landing in the field beyond.

She moved to her son. “Dwaja!” He released his arrows, and not even one touched the mark. He guffawed in embarrassment, pawing at the ground.

“Avantika, dwaja!” she commanded, and all three arrows hit the heart. Avantika turned to Devasena, seeking her approval, and received accolades by the armful. Her delight was not disguised, and Devasena’s heart warmed, seeing her family be open with their emotions after decades of deceit.

The morning rushed by in a volley of arrows, and by midday they were famished. Avantika suggested they eat by the garden, with fresh fruits for dessert. Devasena, who had grown up in a palace, knew the extra work that that inflicted on the kitchen staff with hauling the vessels and plates and water outside, took one look at Mahendra’s expectant face and acquiesced. So it was that the noon sun found them sitting outstretched on the green grass, Avantika telling them stories of her childhood, and Mahendra pitching in occasionally with his own anecdotes.

 

 

As the maidens brought out plates and began to serve, Devasena asked, “If you don’t mind, can we eat by ourselves today?” The young couple nodded eagerly and she dismissed the melee of maids and pages. Mahendra mixed his rice and pulses, uncharacteristically quiet. Avantika sensed he wanted to say something, and smoothly finished her own story and began to eat.  

Mahendra turned to Devasena, and stared at the ground, before shyly asking, “Can you- I’ve never – Sangha ma wouldn’t feed me because children were taught to be self reliant… can I have” he stumbled and stuttered and Devasena waited, longing for him to ask it in its entirety. He drew a long breath and met her eyes, and rushed out, “canyoufeedmeplease?” and the hope on his face made him look fifteen years younger.

‘ _Age be damned_ ’, she thought and scooted to his other side, relishing in the feeling of having him eat from her hand. He was narrating a story about crows and wolves and she was not listening to one word of it. She was soon scraping the bottom of the bowl and he was shaking his head, full and satisfied. Sometime between the different stories he had been telling, Avantika had slipped away and Devasena had not noticed at all.

Washing his hands in the pot of water beside them, Mahendra turned to her suddenly and exclaimed, “You didn’t eat anything Amma!”

“I was full just hearing your stories, Mahendra!” she laughed.

“Good, because I have one more for dessert!” he sat down again, this time much closer to her. “It’s a tale of a boy who got lost in the woods, and who couldn’t find his family, and he was adopted by a tiger. The tiger and her cubs fed him and played with him, but the boy always knew there was something else he had to do, but he could not remember what it was that he had to do. One day, the boy found the footprints of a rabbit, and he had never seen such small footprints before. He followed the trail to a rabbit hole and emerged on the other side to see a huge city of lions.”

“Did the lions eat the boy?” asked Devasena with a smile.

“No, but it was a close call! He ran away quickly. He found a diamond on the ground and picked it up. He went back to the woods, but the lions had chased him for stealing their diamond. He said that he had found it so it was his, but the lions disagreed.”

“And then? Did he defeat the lions?”

“The lions explained that only a worthy person could have found the diamond, everyone else could only see a rock. So the lions wanted him to come back and put the diamond back, and then live with them as king.”

“Oh, is it that easy to become a king? All that one has to do is find a diamond?”

“Oh, it’s not a small diamond. It’s the biggest of the biggest, it’s rare and polished and beautiful, and the light it reflects is like a lighthouse for all the lost souls around it.”

“Sounds like a pretty important diamond to me.” said Devasena.

“It is. It’s so important, that not even the best story-teller can tell you just how important it is.”

“So did the boy become the king, then?”

“He did. He became king and put the diamond back in its cushioned gold case and admired it every day.” 

“Ah, a happy ending!” Devasena smiled.

“Not yet." His voice had dropped to a murmur. "The boy thanked the diamond every day for bringing him to a place where he belonged, and where he had a purpose. But he questioned himself each night: as to whether he deserved to be the king, whether life would have been simpler had he put the diamond to the throne and gone back to his tigers." Mahendra’s voice was so soft that she had to strain to hear it. "Whether the diamond thought he was worthy to be around it.” 

Over the course of the story, he had slipped from leaning back to leaning on her shoulder, playing with the hem of her saree. She stroked his hair, and thought about how best to reassure him. In the end, she could not find any words to say what she really wanted to say. So Devasena lifted his chin up, brought it to face her, and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Mahendra. I loved you when you were Shivudu, I loved you when you were untrained and brash, I will love you as you grow and I will support you in everything you do. Ask me what you need, what you want, and I will give. I gave half my life to keeping you alive. Nothing can be more difficult.” She smiled at him and watched the worries melt off his concerned face.

“I do have one request.” He whispered into her ear. She nodded, encouraging him to ask.

“Can I marry Avantika? She is not a princess, she is a girl from the jungles, I don’t know if I am permitted to marry her.”

“I am a girl from the mountains, and your grandmother was a merchant’s daughter. Avantika is every bit as royal as I am, even though I grew up in the lap of luxury. Your grandmother married my husband’s uncle even though she was a commoner and he a prince. Class is by nature, not by birth” said Devasena.

“I understand, Amma. I think- what I am really asking here, is… do I have your permission to marry her?” his need for her approval was apparent in his eyes.

“I could not have chosen better. She is perfection personified, and you must live up to her. That is all I will say.”

He embraced her in joy, and after a moment, did not let go. Mahendra snuggled into her side, resting his head in the crook of her neck, lips repeating “Amma, Amma, Amma” as they hummed against her skin, as if tattooing her forever to be his and his alone. She hugged him back, peace flowing through her body and settling in the air around them, as Devasena finally reclaimed the son she had once given up. Mahendra slid down, resting his head on her lap, face burrowed into her stomach.

 

 

“Tell me about how I was born.” He murmured.

She drew in a sharp breath, a wave of emotions washing over her. He deserved to know. Despite his carefree attitude, she was able to surmise that he was hurting with the lack of information about his real parents.

She began, “I bore you in this same stomach and carried you around, heaving and huffing for nine long months. I felt every week of it, the first time you kicked, the first time you moved around, the nights when you scrambled around inside and wouldn’t let me sleep, the first time your father felt you move, the constant hunger- Mahendra I felt I was having quadruplets, you demanded so much food!- and the way you made me bigger, in my heart and mind.”

She carded a hand through his curls, running the tips of her fingers over his scalp. “Then when you were finally ready to come out, many things happened. Kattappa told you.” She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. “I brought you into this world kicking and crying, and had you wrapped in soft towels and silks, for purity. I waited for Kattappa to come and receive you, but he didn’t. I whispered your name thrice in your ear.”

“Show me.” He interrupted.

Leaning down, she cupped her son’s face in her hands, feeling the damp trackmarks of tears on his cheeks. Placing her mouth over his ear, she stroked his back to calm him down as she had done twenty five years ago, and whispered, “Mahendra Baahubali! Mahendra Baahubali! Mahendra Baahubali!” in his ear.

“Why did you do my _naama-karanam_ then? Why didn’t you wait for fifteen days?” he demanded.

“I suspected, Mahendra. I waited and your father didn’t return, nor Kattappa. Remember, I was a princess too. I could smell war on the horizon." She stiffened involuntarily. "I didn’t want you to lack anything. I put on the gold we had on your tiny waist” she stroked his back, reminiscing the chain she had drawn onto and clasped around the baby’s hip, “and bundled you up and ran to your grandmother.” 

Her throat choked up, and she had to swallow thrice before she could speak again. “I could see that just then had she realised the enormity of what they had done, playing her for a fool. Kattappa screamed in anguish, and I… I collapsed on the ground with the shock of it all. Precious seconds went by as I sat there in shock.”

“What about grandmother?” he asked.

“Bijjaladeva came in then and told Sivagami Devi to kill you. She walked to me, where I held you nestled against my body, and in my shock I did not move. She knelt… and she begged for my forgiveness. That lioness never even bowed to anyone, and she begged me that night.” Her voice was rich with wonder, the nostalgia flowing from the deep recesses of her heart into his, forming the beginnings of a story he had known the conclusion to. 

She massaged his head absently, reminiscing over her own memories. “But you ran away.” He prompted her to continue the story. His heart was already heavy, but he needed to know, needed this narration for a question so primal that it did not let him sleep, and to which she held the answers.

“Hmm? No. I did not run. The people had gathered outside, and she picked you up to show them that you were alive, that you were the king. They saw you, and they clamored for you. These people- oh, they have loved you for all your life, child.” She stroked his cheek, wiping away his tears that now flowed freely. “Bhallaladeva called his guards to kill you and your grandmother, and it was Kattappa who saved your life.”

“Who saved yours, Amma?” he asked, face upturned.

“The woman who killed my husband.” Devasena’s voice was painted with grief, the grief that had burrowed deep into her bones and had made a home in her blood. “I made the decision then. I told her to keep you safe, and gave you away.”

“Why, Amma, _why_ did you have to give me away?” he cried into her lap.

“So that you could live, Mahendra! I asked you to promise me you would come back. You promised, and you did.” She kissed the top of his head.

His sobs had slowed down to hiccups and he was murmuring incoherently. Devasena said with yearning, “I missed you so much, child. I wanted you in my arms everyday. I felt _empty_ without you. I wanted you so much, Mahendra.”

“I had a mother, but you didn’t have a son. I’m sorry.” Mahendra said.

She stopped short in surprise. “Why are you sorry, child? You have no need to be sorry!”

He quietly murmured into her lap, “I'm sorry you suffered so long. I’m sorry I did not return faster.”

“You came, and that’s all that matters. Now you must go forward, Mahendra. I will not tell this tale another time. It’s a chapter of our lives that has ended. If you would do anything for me, do this- go forward. Leave behind these memories, learn their lessons and move forward.”

He sat up, clutching her hands in his. He nodded and bowed, “Your word is my command, Amma.”

“And my command is law.” She finished with a smile. Seeing his blank face, she remembered that he had never heard Sivagami Devi say it. Devasena shook her head, and said quickly “It’s nothing.”

He smiled at her, knowing there was a joke there that she wasn’t telling him. “When the time is right, you will tell me about it?” he asked.

“When the time is right, it will happen.” She affirmed. “Now there’s a fiancée waiting somewhere for you, and I have business to attend to. Kingdoms don’t run themselves.”  She smiled at her son and walked away, letting the setting sun illuminate her path.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the Supreme Life Force wanted to create the universe, they created Shiva, and from his side: Siddhidhatri. She created the worlds and all lives, and helps Shiva stabilise Creation.  
> Naama-karanam is the baby-naming ceremony.
> 
> I wanted to show that Devasena helps move the story forward as well, bridging old relationships and building new ones.  
> With that my Navaratri series draws to a close. Thank you all for your wonderful support, I really felt like I was part of a community, and I hope to see you all again soon.
> 
> If you liked the chapter, do you want to leave me a comment? :)


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